[dead man]

it took me
years to sort through boxes
where we stored our belongings. stories exhausted
normal nonsense. toys, portrait composites
cracks along the drywall of our bedroom and office sketch a
tale of 2 cooperative hostages. caught in a mindset
it all ends with a buzz. said
she was bored of withdrawing
cookie crumbled and my fortune expired, according to china
orbiting higher. bloodshot warrior's eyelid
his piano playing sadly in Euphoria minor
tortured writer trope, a closet full of disguises
with a heart of gold disabled in this broken device
hooded hippie heretic on hopeless horizons
glazing over paragraphs while searching for silence
asking, can the algorithm code me a conscience
coaxial fibers floating in my lower esophagus
stormy island. gorgeous apartment
sorting through boxes
birthday cards, paraphernalia, promises
exchanged in innocent honesty
our language was a mixture of toxin
whiskey tonic. symptom vs. pharma. waiting to fix
plucking at our veins cause they're collapsing again
growing long in tooth and full of mucous and spit
lost inside his thoughts, reimagining shit
junkyard puppy practicing fetch by chasing a dragon
fell off and crumpled up beneath the weight of the wagon
save our napkins full of caricatures
half asleep and very concerned
all we've done is argue who's behavior is worse
therapy church community workshop questioning choices
i think we
saved our game so many times the levels are pointless
so who do we call?
when all our heroes have fallen
all our parents are fossils and all the liquor is gone
its been tough. please forgive me for all of it
i'm only a consequence





take care