we’re speaking without tongues,
we’re speaking in tongues, hissing
acid orange splatters, and burns
another hole through my mind.
no longer so sharp now,
more steel bat than rapier.
I perch on the rooftops,
sharpening glass against
the ceramic tiles.
I’m closing my eyes
and counting down
the seconds until it all
implodes. everything in
your tone suggests an ending
fair for only the worst in us.
rising sun shattered by
your own crimson hands
dyed with the justice
of chicken blood.
do you swear that you will tell
the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth?
you snake your hand out
from the other’s grasp so quick
that you leave no hand print.
yes, I do, and you smile against
the cacophony of baying dogs.
