Jigsaw
by J.M. Romig, Amanda Whitlock, and Ryan P. Kinney

The first time I watched a man die
It wasn’t a man anymore, they told me
Just like my mother wasn’t my mother anymore

I will never forget the wrong answer
And the empty hours
When the minute       hand was always longer

I often welcome sleepwalking through most of the week
In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened

I don’t see how anyone
Can smoke at a time like this
When the air is so heavy
It’s like breathing cement

I’m in stressed and panicked misery
And I’m vomiting
Lots and lots of                              stuff
That stretches vast
And expands to eat up everything

The guilt of my sin
The heft of your innocence
Weighs heavily on my soul
As i drag you down with me

Her lit cigarette burns
So brightly from the porch
Against the darkness
It reminds me of a lighthouse
Or a bug zapper

And what is that moth doing there anyways?
People are trying to sleep