for the fallen…
we are the whoreson dogs,
boards and bawds, let’s to music...

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve bibles and alcohol
when neither of them will help you at all
check books or diaries
go ahead, draw your pens and fucking die for me

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve cigarettes and adderall
when neither of them will help you at all
love-struck and trifling
go ahead, paint your sins and fucking die with me

syllable syllable syllable villainous
feeling it philosophy at four in the
morning yawning dancing
storytelling falling on swords of
these quandaries yelling fella i’ve
fallen heaven is this hell i inhabit
crawling bawling out my soul to an
audience pondering pandering
fantasy bantering on and on and on
and on
pause
for a sip of blue moon and orange
old boy mouthing sympathy for
mister vengeance, torrid
torn between heaney’s “two lorries”
digging for torment it seems
pouring over paintings faintly
resembling life’s plight
chris, sometimes i wish you were close
so the password on my iphone is the same one that yours was
certainly futile worrisome
and were i someone else stronger
i might have stood by you longer
nonetheless nothing’s left
once we strip all the color off the canvas
underneath winston’s trembling lunar lantern
in a rampage of rampant fancying
that if the pen is a sword for lyrical lunges
then the time is nigh i plunge upon it

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve bibles and alcohol
when neither of them will help you at all
check books or diaries
go ahead, draw your pens and fucking die for me

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve cigarettes and adderall
when neither of them will help you at all
love-struck and trifling
go ahead, paint your sins and fucking die with me

new york knows you’re only beautiful when you’re broken
charleston knows you’re only glowing if you’re toking
winston knows how to hide their homeless and their hungry
while i am loathe to admit here i am at twenty-something
still unemployed
even though they’ve doubled my salary daily ever since i entered
this business
raking dead leaves half-a-decade later
dale, our best friends didn’t even listen to “synaesthetic experiment” and nathan, you were right about the world
yes, we’ve failed our own generation
fuck their terrorism and their economy
we’ve forgotten how to build communities
lost the will to stand together and truthfully
i don’t know how to be intimate anymore
the same night we smoked camel nines on your porch
i ended up in bed with a woman who i didn’t have sex with
then or any of the other several times i’d been next to her
she fell asleep as i read sestinas of crayons and coalmen aloud
all these paintings seem to be of indigo clouds repeating
but with the exact same leaning
that perhaps i too, should be leaving…

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve bibles and alcohol
when neither of them will help you at all
check books or diaries
go ahead, draw your pens and fucking die for me

welcome to the department of medicine
where we serve cigarettes and adderall
when neither of them will help you at all
love-struck and trifling
go ahead, paint your sins...
and then rise with me.