monksta

we paint handclothes across our cheeks
to remove the holiday
of stolen car parts

we post our messages
at crime scenes
waiting for forensics
to use dirty gloves
to look into our lives
we've kept tucked under covers,
under lock and key from our parents

we shower in thimbles
to scrub off memories
we've watched grow
since the twigs were first planted.

we are a grinder
geared up to deliver
the latest starbucks brand
right into our laps

we taste nicotine
like a new lover's lips,
mouthing our desire in smoke
and it all seems so rock n roll.

a broken guitar strumes on every corner
and no one notices anymore

we romance as a fad,
a decade looked back on
in pop culture specials
and this torniquet
we are using to keep our blood loss
at a minimal
is slowly wearing thin

sometimes the only solution
is to start again
six strings at a time

an empty room, an empty bottle
no one around to criticize
your every failed chord

we can only keep our ships
docked for so long
before the ferry man
comes to take us across

and yet, we play on
inbetween radio waves

we trace lines in the sand
no one will remember

we have a shelf-life
of fresh fruit and
waste away in the corner
of some mom and pop grocery store
begging to be picked,
begging to be chosen,
when we all know being alone
keeps the blood in our veins.

our eyes record our silence,
our words record our cries,
our water records our lives
and forgets them
as fast as the drain
can swallow time.