a river of blood through
the upstate desert
a lake of raw sewage
dead trees rising up to a
cloudless sky and the
concept of beauty
which never holds still
the fact that i still love you
like a knife pinning me
to the map of my past and
then the past itself
it’s simple
what i write has nothing to do
with what actually happened
the house always had its own
reasons for burning down
teach your children how to
lie and they will only
grow up to be just like
the rest of us
teach them to hate and
they will try to rule the world
all they ever wanted to
do was make you proud
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