nembutal singalong

 

in the silence of

defeated houses

 

in the absence of rain

 

luminescent grey skies seen through

warped panes of glass, distorted

flight of birds, of falling angels, and

in the room of murdered children

there is always room for

one more tragedy

 

is always one more old man with the

DTs crawling through one more

overgrown and garbage-filled

back yard

 

can’t change the past and

can’t relive it and so we start to

look around for other options

 

dog on fire in a vacant lot

 

sound of teenage laughter

 

and it means something

of course

if you do nothing

 

small boy crying on the sidewalk and

all i have to offer him is a cup of blood

 

girlfriend’s stepfather tells you he’d

fuck her himself if he was

fifteen years younger

 

laughs and hands you a beer and

when the dog tries to run

someone shoots it with a .22

 

june becomes july

 

poison from the factories on the

other side of town turns the bones

of all the sleeping babies to dust

 

call it progress

 

wait for the punchline

 

the idea of freedom in a

nation of assholes

will always be a troubling thing