DEATH IS AN IMPORTANT NUMBER/
LAST OF THE SHADOW MEN
in the romance of theft
I steal for you what you need,
we are transient bones
with skulls behind our eyes,
we are echoes in the deathhouse,
yet while we live this despair
I feed you as I can,
drugs, burgers, pizza, medication,
is this the sound of tomorrow
or just sound?
if they play this at Glastonbury
would they dance?
when I have nothing to give
I will give you sad poems
and abstract art made up of
indelicate syllables,
in light as chill as the moon,
I want to gift you wonders
yet I feed you trash
bruise-fresh in frozen ripeness
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