Mourningsong

 

i'm tasting flowers at dawn,
with Hunter and Kurt,
cold tar underneath.
i'm a scumbag baby,
crying on a street corner,
junkie hoodie and cigarettes.
holes in clothes,
polluting a body
that has taken enough.

bathroom stalls are the altar.
a sacrificial lamb is
lain on white porcelain.
blood falls, and stains
a sick romance,

a tainted love.
karma interjects,
when i abuse,
i am abused.
opening arms,
disturbed pre-teen on the road like Keroac.
the road to a dead end,
sinew rotting into flannel pants.
redemption is on the horizon,
for those who race down
streets of gold to shimmering shores,
sinking and drowning is finally a choice.