.
.
.
.
as it works out
this is my excavation
to the days full of
laughter dripping like wine
or ice tea days in hot rain
sweaty filled nights
climbing outdoors
together with sunscreen in your hair
she spoke nine words
and each are bullets
that mine have pulled to release
and I've been stabbing
at the promised lands
until my veins have collapsed
drugs make me see the sun better
sometimes the stars drown out
and die, shimmering more
than they have ever
I'd promise I'd be real
to you, won't sleep in
the gutter no more
but I'm bad at holding
promises
