i

the hint

inherit in your voice

(although we speak

as silent ones)

allows the sight

of fear to sur

face, pressure

cracks form on

the tongue,

try to show

no weakness

says your inner

voice to you,

i saw it in

proverbial eyes

alas,

i heard it too.

ii

love songs

grow like weeds

are plucked like flowers

with no toils,

to give to hers

(a gift ignoring

the cubic virtue

of houses next to

which they grew)

love songs wilt

next to deeds,

the weight

which crushes soil.

iii.

guilty is

the landscape painter

the guitar-strummer

the missile silo

guilty as

guilty as me.

for pretending

no time is

'nt fixed, when a note

a word is

a weapon with

the potent

cy to kill

guilty as the

all.

stop

apologizing.

i killed you with

my words

then formaldehyde

was poured

on the trees

over where

we used to sit

in your car.

every time you

see those leaves

they freeze in your

un

wavering

remembrance

of the death

you suffered there.

then i painted

over film

the scenes that

i remembered,

romanticized

everything. damned

am i for lying.

my finger twitched

towards destruction

of worlds

as i became death

myself, then.

guilty is

guilty as i,

don't apologize