It’s a doggie world out there.
      loud sounds.
        nails that scratch.
      words that bind.
To be stuck in the middle: a curse; a relief.
For you see, life is for living.
      But the dead come, at night.
      With their voices soft as thunder.
         Bitter remembrances.
         Does a single count?
        As much as a tree, house.
Inarticulate little claws scream:
      Violence! Violence!
      Caucus rational
                   four wingéd streets.
                         The rain, baptismal.
It all started with a look.
      that kills.
         that stains.
       that taints, and jades.
But we’re the unhappy ones:
      the dollar in between dreams.
      where are the dads?
 
So farewell, Leicester Square.
      but my heart’s right there.
Never less, crushed feet under a mountain of lies.
We con front.
      Splatter.
      Desecrate.
      All-involuntary humanity.
It’s all the same, Lupe & Lill.
The clichés wound so tight.
      Birds of pray flock upon us, at night.
For a table and a brandy,
      a smoke, shop.
        a car, plow.
       a breath, gone.
 
Walk with me, gone.