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In the Streets, We Lay Dying
A Poem
there’s a vein
from which bleeds
red, white, and blue —
and i trace colors in the water,
watching purple rise to the surface
and there’s something
like an aha moment
where i wonder what the point is
because i can’t keep anything in my head
long enough to make a difference at all
your face haunts me on the darkest nights,
but i know better than to believe in you —
dark shades walking in tune with mourners,
hopeless interludes for funerals tomorrow,
while we wonder what the hell it’s all for
and i’m sitting in an empty room
with memories of white walls
and fake smiles —
and i’m left wondering why i was a pawn
in such a grander game than i ever knew before
the truth is i just want to sit
in an empty house
with cool air running through,
no mind for dollar signs or symbols of infamy —
while someone else down the road watches television
