Letters

I talk in letters, walk in slow motion dreams
I think about the lack of screams, the screens
between you and me.
between me and me. I see blue flashing lights
presenting your silhouette to my mind…
and all I can see now is red.

I heard your trigger cock, nine o’clock
I remember thinking, “You should’ve had a cause old man.”
I remember the hardon you carried, and I don’t know how
I broke your heart.
I was only thirteen.

I walked miles on broken feet for you,
more for green,
but I couldn’t love you like that;
not with the barrel against my head
and the smell of cool silver under my nose…
all I smell now is you, inside out.

as I scrape you off the walls, and out from under my nails;
I dig a little deeper to shave your memory.
I imagine me a steel black train
forging over history’s tracks.
but in the end I run over myself,
and shoot up, in a puff of oil-stained smoke.