12/22

There's a wreath on the casket

On the doorway to death

Piano black choked in lacquer

The lid mutes memory's breath

In my place faintly apart

Where the feelings are dim

I say words over the holes in my heart

Running out of room for love to live

Magnetic mourning

Wartime heart

Privation scorning

Soul's stolen art

The state of my union is dust, it's dour, it's hushed

And there's nothing left to do but not give up

Family frames snuffed in junk

At the bottom of a Rubbermaid

Less use than the old wire clumps

They capture people of whom I shouldn't be afraid

Family ties tie me down

Fox's snare spawning from the cracks in the family tree

I got loose but they're hounds

Tracing specs of my rebel blood and swearing they love me

Magnetic mourning

Wartime heart

Privation scorning

Soul's stolen art

The state of my union is dust, it's dour, it's hushed

And there's nothing left to do but not give up

This feels like a pious pursuit

Belief without truth, always something to lose

The proof of love violently shifts

When it's here, it lives

When it's not, it's myth

Walk me back down the aisle

Show me there's something to see

I'll clasp my hands a while

Palm the blue pills of rosary

Cast my request on the pile

All that's everlasting is plea

I'll come with purest desire

If there's even any such thing

Fear of god for fear of ends

Doesn't feel like a sound trade

No welcoming dose, no rose colored lens

So I sure won't be a prayer slave

We only speak when I'm in need

But even I know that's not how it works

Death before inauthenticity

I was put here for a righteous kind of hurt

Magnetic mourning

Wartime heart

Privation scorning

Soul's stolen art

The state of my union is dust, it's sour, it's rushed

And there's nothing left to do but not give up