Fuck the mother of lies, the father of deceit,
who feed poison to their children,
becoming their friends, helpers, enemies–
their finishers.

Lions–
dancing, then lunging,
never satisfied,
always stealing,
blind and
by instinct,
devouring their own.

Babylon: a city buried
behind white teeth
and Sunday smiles–
hungry.
Angels with appetite.

We walk away
with our heads in our hands,
halfway beheaded
by his tongue and her eyes.

With every step we take to flee, the venom
infects our blood, infects our sleep, infects our dreams.
But poison simmers slowly, and we cannot die today.

It takes time to see the bleeding clearly.

As the garden grows ashen,
we run to stray dogs and shattered glass
to find the feral in our reflections–
to find some substance,
some absolution,
some raw exuberance.
some fleeting transcendence,
some radical subsistence,
some titillating effervescent lightning bug trailer park trash
for us to consume,
consume and consummate–
for that is all we know
as the darkness dances
with neon
on its mask.

We cringe at open hands or open sky.
We learned that every kindness has a price.
We scare away our lovers and our friends.
We know not how to love but on a leash.
We cry for the return of stolen years–
for we have lost our purity,
pimped out to a fiery lover,
and the tests of time and toys
cannot redeem us.

Lightly, our demeanors tread on the eggshells
fallen from your nest–
they were ours…
brightly colored,
torn away from the branches–
we were yours.

And down
down
down
down to earth
we fall
again.

Breathe in.

Again–