You kneel over,
hurling,
hands on gravel on tire stench on rubber
And there, on the streets
blood
Do you feel a pain too?
Right there, in your stomach
A little at the back, to the side
like when you run for a bit and stop and then run again but you forgot that it gives you stitches but it’s too late and it stabs and—
Do you feel it?
You grin at me with carnage teeth
We’re bound, aren’t we
Ritual and bone
Do you feel the needle?
or a cut
or a knife
or a bullet
or a— oh
you don’t feel it
I’m staring at the sky now,
your head’s the moon
your eyes the stars
my blood rain from your storm cloud lips
I— I think I’ve had enough
It’s been fun, I wanna go home
It’s— it’s been—
hold on
My chest is the rotten mouth of dying lion
Yep, crank the clamp wider, that’s right
Bad teeth in the back, come on
Yank it out
I’m still on the road
It’s a crossroads, I notice
It’s the only thing I can notice over the vice on my ribs
and the sight of your back
It’s crowded here
There’s the Hurt, doing shots in the living room
my Breath, snorting chemicals in the corner
the Night, shoving its tongue down my throat
And you, host of the Party of the Century
You walk away, silent as always
I think my veins still swell in your mouth
iron minting you a new silver tongue
I hope you taste nothing else