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of all the Things to be
the back of our throats Burn here
with the cool air of the night rushing to our lungs
trekked through sleet and slush to get here
we stare to the graffiti we’d done last year
you said We Were Pretentious
with our Nihilist eyes
we lie at the Underpass
our coats Soaking up Slush and warming our backs
our initials etched into the concrete
you’re consumed with a bitter cloud of cigarette smoke
i sip my cherry cola as it slowly freezes over
the sky is ink; black as a Raven and calm like a Sleeping Child
you preach Ecclesiasties as i break down over The Future
what hypocrites we are
snowflakes stick to your Hair, your
hairspray rendering rigidness
our eyelashes are Frozen and you’re
lying Still in Smoke and our
spray paint’s peeling off and my
Teeth are Stained with Cola and we are
Living
painfully recklessly heart-wrenchingly longingly astonishingly distressingly achingly
cunning and cutting and burning and blazing and hellish and tired and thrilled and bored
and it’s the Realest Thing We’ve Ever Known
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