watching him bleed
i could smell the end of his soul dancing
even singing, all of this before me
wild and naked, smiling his way toward
something better than this
better than here
somewhere quiet
where grown men wont weep in guilt
where the screams wont echo till sunrise
where birds chirp and never screech and circle
somewhere palpable and raw
reflecting all color
a place where the neon-glow we trust
could never compare
and even with his head glowing that crimson red
and the pools of blood in each ear
deep enough to dive into
i can feel a sense of calm;
approaching euphoria
that sweep and tingle
i thought was only for purchase
dropping itself in front of me
like the kind of gift no one ever asks for
and all you can do is remain polite
a graciousness in remorse
to try and make sense when everyone else has given up
all you can do is pick yourself up
and the love the one who reminds you
to wash the stain from off your hands.

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