we are the magpies
and the dead birds
the abortions of his every mistake
we are the decaying smiles
and finger bones
scotch-taped to memory
where the ink bleeds out poets
we are the dampened ground
a funeral garden
the smell of murder
the taste that isn't quite right
we are four letter words scrawled in crimson
veins pumped full of nicotine
his addiction, his destruction, his last prayer
we are milk gone sour
his first breath
his last erection
we are plastic lungs and glass eyes
and hips and tongue and tits
the red stains on her dress from love gone wrong
stomachs tattooed with charcoal
sugar-coated-red-meat religion by the pound
an electric sex circus
holier than thou antique whores
salty foreheads and smeared skin
unexpected silence in a demon-filled carriage
we are the resurrection of a magazine
souls burned down to chalky ashes
wrapped in cellophane and price tags
to be sold to the starved masses on sunday
saviours
gods
monomaniacs
swimmingsinkingbreathingdrowning 