I didn't hold tendons between my fingers like
street boys on rain city rooftops,
crumpling their futures up to smash into shredded jeans,
shredded hearts,
some wrappers escaping, flying over this city
as our neglectful witnesses.

Their hands were broken bottles. The black top
made my guts look like escaping snakes,
my eyes hoping to be Medusa.
Fictionalizing gets me through most things.
Sometimes pain tastes like metal, sometimes like cherries.

I stare at the sideways sunset, a wrapper spit up
and drying out, a pipe dream promise;
reviewing my time strips as if they'd had a spelling change,
recounting every drop of blood word and smile.
Sometimes I forget that I'm real.
Sometimes I'm not.

Drip, drip, drip.
Something falls on the floor.
Something is loaded.

Click, it's a clip.
A hammering on the door.
Something exploded.

Skip, skip, skip.
Kids play outside, class is a bore.
"That's so gay," the older ones goaded.

Slip, it's a pistol grip.
Kids fight outside, it's all blood and gore.
"That's so gay." His sanity eroded.

Whip, whip, whip.
A prisoner screams, tell me more.
Broken, his ****** body corroded.

Flip, it's a jeep by the gaza strip.
It's not worth it, the leader's a *****.
The refugee food unloaded.

Night after night they'd fight
Fires and flames re-ignite
As Sparks of anger flared
She lived but dead scared
Next was waking dead to life
Yet again not too tired to fuel the strife
Atimes they were warm, atimes cold as mist
Sometimes apart, sometimes at heart
There were days they hated and days they kissed
Days of soothing the days of hurt
The flame as bright as the Sun
Died down to dim of a lantern
Even their ******* Son
Came to terms with that zigzag pattern
High was high and low was low
When's Dad was high there wasn't law
His Mama's weapons were claws
While earning real hard blows
Was what fate 'd served
What she deserved?
In the air lingered an aroma of temptation
To slay his papa and offer redemption
That became a prayer each Sunday
What he painfully did fulfill someday

I saw the hint of red and blue reflecting off the dark surrounding
Daddy scares Mommy sometimes and she screams
The neighbors don't like the noise so they call

When I turned the corner I saw more cars than usual and a van.
I ran to my home. A yellow line was blocking the door.
I ducked under it.

Mommy was still. Laying down on the floor.
She was drooling blood.
I ran up to her, I shook her, I yelled.

She was cold. Not warm like Mommy's hugs are.
She didn't open her eyes and
I couldn't feel or hear her breathe

A man I didn't know grabbed me.
I scratched his face and kicked his stomach.
He let go and I ran back to Mommy

"Mommy, I'm sorry I took candy from the jar and lied"
"I pushed a boy at school today and I'm sorry!"
"I didn't do my homework yesterday Mommy"

Why didn't she say anything?
Was she mad at me?

Two more men I didn't know grabbed me.
They took me away from my home.

"Did Daddy leave me too?"

I'm a bad kid.

It rained that day, each
Droplet hit upon me.

Silence was my torment,
A tear fell alone unheard.

A cushion muffled
Impacted rain.

We killed
Hart Crane
Though he leapt
To his death
A poet’s plan
Or perhaps a whim
We hold the blame

We killed Freddie Mercury
And stopped the music
The callous political games
Blocked possible gains
In a needed cure

We killed Harvey Milk
We were the bullets
And the metal frame
Held the assassin’s hand
We hold the shame

We killed
The blond burnt boy
Encouraging
The hate

We killed the strung up
Beautiful boys
The hung up
Beaten up
Broken hearted
Brothers and sons

We are the progenitors
Of the violence
Through action
And more often than not
Through inaction

Maybe a little more guilt
Would serve us well

Untie the knot in my throat
So that I can try to speak
Let the air flow to my lungs
So that I can remember to breathe
If I look away in disgust
It’s from the tears that want to run
Don’t mind my smile
It’s the only wall I have

Wrath is something to fear for all parties involved
Really, wrath is a separate entity that is unaffiliated
With the situation entirely
It drops by when clever words drip and splatter
And whimsically decides that there is far too much violence
For the air to be so blue
And whispers encouragement lightheartedly
That red is a much better color for this aesthetic anyway