all fury to be stomped out, wrung out,
and sorrow is the liquid stuff of dreams-
such bright eyes, so pretty,
burning in this vindictive city.

i rip out each small sharp bone,
smash each nocturnal nontruth,
will my blood to pulse so much more than this:
tick
tock
rick
rock

they sip moments as i scream
at the sun that came to make love to the rain.
they sip and they digest,
i slurp and make a mess.