I see behind you a hungry boy’s shaggy bones
and broken toes, praying to feed the lackluster shrine
of lies meant for love. Sincerity
sinks like lead wiring between the chaos interface
(completely user cruel) to email gluttonous wishes
of fortified survival. Your mind
makes a fiction we dare to ignore, stationed in the pithy
decadence of pride.
So, now to war?
The dumb-sculpted sight trains
for the red surrounding her,
sure to falter blue or green.
In Attic town the navy sleeps and
assassin rent’s been paid to lift Helios into his Dawn.
Fingertips of pink meld red
inside the venom sack. You say,
“Remember love?”
You pull the trigger.
