he was wearing white
his shirt was that color
so it stood out
on the night time street
still busy glowing tungsten
tacky store fronts
endless red car lights
all a blur
all too many of them
will there ever be an end?


one day you slipped
the strap broke
they thought you were playing a trick
if only you could lie to them
you could if you acted enough
the gashes are red
when will they be theirs
think I'm joking


dry and scaly
cracking like paper
dead listless eyes staring at you
not staring
there beyond and at nothing
it's the worst thing
really the worst
the walls are smeared with red
looks like it could be but it isn't
isn't real isn't something real it's based on
there was a doll in the crib
eyes staring out blue eyes, same blue same way
you spun around seeming endless
in the basement and on the driveway
someone should have told you something

you don't have energy to hate
what good would it do?
or to become enemies
all a rock that fell
you really are scraped
this way and that way

I'm dry, dried out and spent
once I had it
once the waves lifted me up
dropped me down
and it's sad
the red ants and worms eat you alive
and you become a nasty cliche


is it too much energy to hate? what is hate?
you are dried out like a rag
you are scraped raw
once they were there
a face, face becomes a mask
they walked this place a million others did there
before them
a bag of white
a salty ride
there were one too many