dismas
a deer torn in half by the side of the road or a politician’s mouth on your daughter’s body. the gun is warm and what i want are options. the baby’s skull is underneath the soldier’s boots and i’m a coward for not dying for this country. i’m a faggot holding out his broken hands and begging.
noah
children are starving to death everywhere and the days pass by without meaning. mountains are falling and speeches are being written. i’m upstairs with a rifle between my eyes and gasoline spilling from my mouth. the war becoming a fact of life and the reasons cages are built. this hopeless face is always in the mirror.
refrain
this ditch piled high with the bodies of slaughtered police officers and at some point you’ll leave. the walls are burned black and the future is being shaped by money. the rooms are windowless and the borders are invisible. depression becoming a relentless weight and all of these voices that i don’t recognize. an empire of ruin is all we ever wanted.
miles end
the streets are leaking blood and i’m here waving goodbye. a cage in a forest or an amputee camp. the television is on in an empty room and i all i dream about is your skin. winter fading and some endless war covering this town. the days are thick with fear and i’ve forgotten my father’s face. all i’m trying to do is explain who i am. what i want is for it to matter.
Matt Finney is a writer from millbrook, alabama. His myspace page is: www.myspace.com/synonymforhurt
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