shoothemdown

From Prison to Hospital we sang,

A song of sweet depravity

From which your lungs bled all over my mother’s new carpet.

And I could have sworn I saw God

As you convulsed in the field of wildflowers.

“Follow the lights,” He said.

“Away from the gas chamber.”

So we ran, you and I.

Bile coursing through my veins,

As you coursed through my heart.

A lost cause when I remembered you were raised by geishas on the rise,

Hidden under streetlights

Were the men in uniform couldn’t find you.

Your fingers like needles on my skin;

Wonderful, threatening needles

Prodding my hips

 Like nails in my feet.

But then the apocalypse came

Filling the air with cancer.

I couldn’t find you in that tunnel,

Where your voice echoed through the brick walls

And shattered my ribcage.

The voice you used to say my name,

To scream, “The neighborhood is bleeding!”

Before they severed your vocal chords,

And now all you can say is, “Phone Call.”

But I don’t know what that means.

So I just pretend it means “You’re all I need”, instead.

I hope.

I hope.

Ever since then, the scar tissue has just been building

Into a mass of discontent,

Where blood never clots

And I can no longer see the sun.

At least not the way you see it.

Melting, instead of burning.

But I finally found you,

And while I held your sweet face in my frost-covered hands

And you cried tears of Amatoxin down my throat.

It was all worth it,

My body being doused in gasoline

And engulfed in flames

Just to see your eyes sparkle the way they do in the light

One last time.

So please, darling, remember

That when the lights flicker,

I just want you to feel the way I used to make you feel.