a collapsing house in the age of starvation

 

just standing there on the side of

the road in a few feet of snow,

and you hit him

 

you slow down, or at least

that’s how you tell the story,

and something by the cult on the radio

 

loud,

and then you wake up

 

then you fall asleep

 

you dream about

that last good summer

 

you taste blood

 

think maybe you’re high, think

maybe you just wish you were, and do you

ever get tired of being

your father’s favorite failure?

 

did you end up the whore

your mother always said you’d be?

 

it’s good to keep your

options open

 

look at christ,

right?

 

tunnel vision and then

dead at 33

 

some fucked-up religion based on

misery, murder and pain

 

the pretty smiles of

porn star suicides

 

and you want love to be

better than sex, but we’ve come too

far to keep swallowing that

candy-colored bullshit

 

we need money for drugs, and we

need drugs to help us

forget that we have no money

 

we need this asshole to get

up and walk away, but it looks

like he might be down for good

 

looks like your father might have

a new joke for

all the guys down at the bar

 

probably kick your ass later

for fucking up the car,

but you’ve still got the rest of

your life, right?

 

still got a nickel bag tucked away

in the back of your

sister’s bathroom closet

 

still got a million

mistakes just begging

to be made