speak louder
speak until we can see the emotions dripping from your lips
splattering onto the linoleum in a spastic pattern of
drip.
drip.
drip...

make sure that every word comes out clear like meth
because this is the last time your vernacular will wake.
this holy figure in you has been clad in nothing for so long
(indecent exposure)
and its getting cold out.

the bonds that have kept you tied to a grave you were too afraid to leave
. . .or rest in. . .(limbo)
the iron-clad hopes and self-denied letdowns are breaking so fast
lightning rips across the sky like rumors in locker rooms
(run while you can)

you were a demon tied down
by the guilt of watching angels being murdered in the sleeping of the stars
and serving no justice.
(what place have you to condescend?)

so bring those morals that your mother boasts so boldly of
(you’re such a saint.)
bring them into your own pale hands
and squeeze.
mark this territory as your own.
win this war and realize that the soldiers never really fought for you.
(did you really expect to be loved?)

 
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