Lapdog

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In dreaming, I dress as faith does,
kindly and without reason
floating on a river of Vicadin
you catch me crying
recalling that which I once uttered and
what no one could hear
I had cracks in my ribs and that large scar you know about
where Mom’s cookie tray once burned
I’m tired…
the city itself is becoming overgrown
ghastly as it is
frayed wires and empty cans
$20 for a pack of smokes at the shop next to
yawning sections of trash
they’ve become taller than the dilapidated tenements
can I kiss you under that broken light on Pearl St.
last we did
your eyes were fluttering at the speed of a hum
my wrists were gushing
like pomegranate seeds
dripping down the hinges
of the finest doors made by craftsmen and politicians
you were half-human half-Athena
viscera and void

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I could go on like this forever
they say
with their arms slashed off
and bodies marred
documenting it all on films
no one cares to watch
on songs no one cares to listen to
in poems no one cares to read
uttering words through spread out teeth
and chapped lips
cracked and bleeding
fawning red lips
dollar smokes set primly between them
as they sleep on park benches
in town squares