As she sings the blues

with a cheap guitar bought

at the five and dime

Her voice lingers over

me as if to say

will you still love me

when we meet in the after

math of this bourbon

and dry?

Will you still love

me as my words float like

a noose above your head?

It’s easy to move on and slow

to move down the ward’s passages

looking for crazies to come

and wilt before the heat

of suns.

I will love you like a needle

he replies, like a depot

in the backside, unwilling or

no to your medication

you will find me here

basking in the warmth

of your rays.

What shall I do with

you now you are disabled

with love and no longer

useful to the pitch of

the crowd’s voice in the tiers

Can you no longer hear?

You fall over on the sidewalk

and sleep all the day

what do I do

when you start to drool out my name

running from your mouth

like accusations of love

unreturned? Listen to my guitar

it’s telling you to go

down that hard solitary road

of insanity and alcohol

I loved you once

but it is not here in the end

that we shall see the uses of our

needs being held open for the

warriors to see.


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