hatred of all things has led me to believe
that night is when
the absolution of all iniquities
is wholeheartedly obsessed over
by those who remember
what it is like
to truly toil
in the sun, under the moon
all day, all night, and more
this is how we live when we are too afraid
that death may be a wolf
sleeping underneath the porch steps
licking rabbit bones
still hungry
I hold her hand, and she swings her fist
I deserve that
for trusting you
I say, feeling the sting
i think it only hurts her, but my breathing gets heavy
and its not what you think
regret kills more erections
than thoughts of mothers
ok back to work