throttled with a hatefuck
driving graveyard in a junkyard truck
buried in armor stained in friendship
better left as molten slag
from the twisted heat smoulder
of a shared life dressed in drag.

if anyone asked, we'd bite
that feeding hand, hurt and bleeding
amputees weighed in matrimony
what remains to make it right.

you've been interred in a bingo drum:
limping by on auto-dialers and false names
false teeth and pick-up strum
kosher salt and sex-trade rickets
sellin' a show but got no tickets
so i bought a piece of you instead.

Five finger, four finger, three finger--
as long as I'll play I'll never let go
winnings sewn into jackets
one at a time, like patches
shredding wasps and taxmen 
with badminton raquets.

but i'll never let go of that piece, buried
deep as shrapnel, so long in my heart
it may have existed first
and I may have grown in around it
the brusque unkempt hedges of where I first spotted you.

so imperfect, so beautiful. So bad for a smooth talker
we traded words for th'friend johnny walker
and at midnight, as it still strikes me tonight
you kissed me.

since then I've never been put right.

I hate you harder than that thirteenth hour
when you went home and never came back. 
the money's too good for me here
too good to leave this squished, wretched spot in the cracks
where i've seeped, stretching out the glory days
in the travel, in the haze
where I unravel
and places turn into days.