Lifes like hills
They rise and fall
You will be at your highest
Then life will bring you back down to hell

Love’s dead.
Love’s dead.
I’ll say it again.
I’ll sing it from the rooftop
'Till these old bones stop breathing.

I’ll take a knife to
My pulmonary arteries and watch
My undeserving heart lose its ruby-colored dressings.
Before I let love
Fool me again
With its deceptive tactics.  

Am I a product of my environment?
Or do I just
Lack the basic capacity
To understand love’s cruel semantics?

Only time will tell what becomes
Of this defective love
That plagues my soul.

Cut the cord
And rip out my
Heart
Like you do
Everytime you walk away.

At least my
Cynicism will be
There to greet me.

it's ready to happen
hours count down to launch, but the burners hum already
the structure is taken up
siphons slowly into the bloodstream

the catalyst, the moment
the agonist, the imitator

the perceptual set is set, and it's famished
not even lit, and it's waiting for more-
the stimulant, the ignition
the doctor, the system

like inlets of blood, the freeways carry us to the city
like carcinogens, like poison medication
like aluminum, like exhaust

i too am carried
and when i reach that center
i am deposited, and begin to take effect
while i wait for my own poison to take hold of me
blood within Blood
and
poison in Poison
medication in Medication in MEDICATION
we make sure all of our cancers are medicated

it has happened already
but i am waiting for it to happen again
the freeway now quiets itself in anticipation
a new day to repeat
the city is ready for more