The Triumph of Dust

Marry me to statistics, and pair me up on the fridge.

Hold my bad example close in toasts among friends.

Forget me in the attic with the seasonal decor.

Fetch me at the right time to relish in the slums where we met.

Come back when you have a camera ready, and the last of your days die down in regret.

Dream out loud, and then kill me over, and over in the day mares that haunt you.

Drown my face among the many nights as you pack away your pill fever dreams.

Dreaming my imagine is flammable, stabbing out my eyes. 

Cutting me down to size.

Locking me down.

Lower than this.

Lip locked in fatal whispers of old time bliss. 

Comma the bullets.

Before my eyes, as I watch the wrath draw forward, and drip.

Whisper your projection of disappointments as I lay on the floor watching you smile.

Murder the very day that I came to mind.

Paint your name in my blood.

Flush the evidence.

Dump me in the marina.

Celebrate at full mast, and let the good wine flow.

Toast to the Caesars

You finally made it.

Purity beckons.

 Savor the means.