at the bottom of everything
Your heart is broken
and if I could
I'd give you mine.
Today I walked through the
snow and found a field of
headstones.
They were in rows
like the weeks on calendars,
where each box is a day that
YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE
without pills for
your poisonous sleep.
And I know you'll leave
in the fall, when the trees
become graves
and their colour lies
DEAD in the grass.
look at this hell that I have made
at the bottom of everything
WE'RE ALL SUCKERS FOR TRAGEDIES