In this town.....

Love Song

In this dirty little town

we don’t breath the air,

we breath “whose fucking who ”

we  breath “look whose fucking me”

we breath the word fuck

right in like a sweet perfume

and exhale out “look whose fucking you.”

We breath from the space

where the breathing left,

the monoxide belch

of the affixed and permanent notsmile,

coupled with the keep your distance hug,

where the eyes don't meet the eyes

and lips don’t meet the cheek.

We breath the lowest common denominator,

which is we, together in this stolid

and sinking truth it is agreed

this town could drown if dirt

weren’t what it loved to breath. 

And in and of itself, we love 

its worthless emptiness –

the murmering acceptance of

this is where we are, and this 

is what we have,

and this is who we were

when we did and did not

do to one another, things,

back when pretending to pretend made

happy glad, fulfilled but mistaken

for inspite of all our fucking this

and fucking that

our breathing was mistaken - 

Today, we may not seem as sad

when at the bottom of the pile,

or when at the top or in the middle,

because we take from one another

what it is we thought was freely given, 

After all, we’ve kicked each other 

when were up, we’ve kicked 

each other when we're down.

we’ve used look whose fucking who

as our every excuse

to fill a book of lies.

This town is the soft parade,

and would just as soon hold your hand

as punch you right between the eyes.