or this idea of children
locked in cages
a shotgun barrel in the mouth of
every politician who helped put them
there,
and then a feast for the vultures
not justice but satisfaction
not poetry but retribution
good fun in the age of nil,
and what more do you want?
young gods are born every day
empires fall,
baby
a lifetime spent fucking waitresses
in
the backseats of borrowed cars
might be a lifetime wasted,
but what else did we have going on?
how many years did winter last
before your father killed himself?
or maybe it wasn’t like that
maybe your mother finds him
under the kitchen table some random
afternoon,
reeking of shit and booze
maybe your brother laughs
has a kid of his own by this point
and a taste for speed, and the
rumor is that we’re all screwed
the rumor is that we’re all
our own worst enemy
that christ never really
gave a shit about any of this
wanted money and power and teenage
pussy,
and maybe he was killed for
being too human
maybe the most painful truth you can
own
is that his death was
as meaningless as his life
the proof is
everywhere you look
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