non-lethal

before common error: drifting like a storm past windows over tramlines. hunters and collectors drawing tears down the parade. familiar bells ring to stop with a friend on the way to school. eyes dry in a moment. I leave the song unfinished on the road.

eyes hang lower than the bar we dig the grave for. I remember when sleep was enough. seven of clubs at house of cards: regular and large with just as much inside. the screen is hostile to the lids that want to close. too much chatter in the basement, too cold sitting in the shade. we look out over the green for something else to laugh at. eyes shut city limits. playing mum for someone else's colonoscopy. I keep the car keys in the bag with empty books.

my phone tells me what to do. take my meds, 'grow and flow'. I brush my teeth to sleep and greet another day of genocide. at least the arms we use to kill are non-lethal in nature.