Steve is on (to) something

dusk slowly dawns on the unmarked graves
of my bloodied countrymen, here a teacher
and here a priest, here a reporter, and here
a poet -
the only tribute to their dreams
are lodged deep inside their skulls and
the .45 mm shells tell us that we are helpless
so we lash out at the shadows
but for all our pleading and our begging
for all our shouting and our marching
the shadows are unmoving
because roots that run deep
hold firm

I sat crying and they came to me
What grief is this that
Calls forth your tears?

Ah, I’m reaching for the stars.

Oh, they said, uncomprehending,
But you will never get there.
So they tried to console me,
Pitying me.

Oh yes, no I won’t.
But on the way,
I’ll lose these fears

take me to where

your sun does not shine

i dislike flies that buzz and bother you
which is to say i hate all flies
especially those that feed on our sweat
which is to say all of them
but moreso those who delude themselves
into believing that they are more
than flies, and those -
those, i would love to crush
with a flyswat

[edit [again]]

My angel did not come dressed in white,
Rather, she looked very much soiled
Wrapped in tattered rags, the faded blues of which
Resembled her heaven not at all.
Her wings were crumpled beneath her
As she lay, almost as if she had fallen
But, oh! Her wings, all wet and soggy and gray
Like, maybe, a dreary day, or most likely
Salvaged newsprint – the other day’s news
Brought back to life to shield her delicate
Skin from the coarse asphalt of her bed.

why are you this way?
heart beating half-heartedly
as if you would stop
any moment you felt like
it was too much
isn’t there something
they can do for you

yeah, but who’s they
there’s no one left here
no one left to listen to me
and sleep is just too tempting
it would be so easy
to not wake up instead
of living another day
of what cannot be considered
a life anyway

oh, there’s no stopping now
your blood is running cold
and your heart is so withered
no tears can bring it back

this is my final goodbye
i have only one last request
when i am gone,
please look for me

Shooting hoops with my trash can
It dawns that I am bored
So I turn on the boob tube but MTV sucks
And all those boy bands drive me mad

Chorus:

Britney Spears, I’m no baby
I can’t stand the thought of losing you
Don’t worry I’m no Timberlake
I’m never leaving you

I get my guitar
And hum out some tunes
But you’re rhythm’s stuck in my head baby
And you play me like a fool

Repeat Chorus

Shooting hoops with my trash can
It dawns that I am bored
Come on over, won’t you
I’m no baby no more.

—

Ayan reps, there’s your song

It is not enough to think of life
When the cold glint of steel
Bleeds crimson – uncaring,
Reflecting the dark red
Seeping into cracks
In the mildewed tiles
Of the last bathroom stall
Where there is no one to hear
The whispered cries for help
Save the grimy 50-watt bulb
Swinging carelessly above,
Inexorably tracing the end.

how many times
will you have to write
those letters
before they see
the red stains on ivory skin
that tell of a fallen angel
hurting within