1/5/11

And so we dance backwards
drifting like trembling faults.

The city falls as the populace chokes,
on the resin of a thousand
ticky tacky hacking tokes.

Destructive little tantrums
as our armies ride into the motes;

Shaking that sticks to us, grips our desires
as certain as hurting,
as earthquakes start fires -

In the sure and obscure view
of settling dust, the sun is dim,
and I think we're both tired of living in sin
so darling,
let the genocide begin.