i:
new york kids stand sidebyside lined up
for cafeteria deliverance 

    these jeans washed out and bluer than
   our sky is this day i think "
       but is it not a sin to 
       dream of twisted metal
       ?" of shrapnel bent flaming sent spiraled
 13 boxes of bullets (for
luck
 )

ii:
  less&less daybyday underneath a sick roof
 ill with one too many bad dreams 
        "where now lie the fruits
    of our madness &can anyone be
  brought back to us
      ?" but repsonses are none.

their tears are fought like enemies
    because they are
   and rather than lay down their demon
grin they
      march ever onward to
  ward oblivion

iii:
albany adults fresh with jailcell soapscent
                    sifting through paperwork
     counting personal statistics
  i ask them "what is the
 best use
                 of company time
    , do you think ?"
 they answer pornography
faces scarred and throats stained with drink
and--
smoke. they are unforgiven still &so i think
        of the women they must 
    masturbate to under computer desk canopy
  or between bathroom stall walls

iv: 
     a return to old haunts leaves many men ghosts
   however these old bucks unwise in their
       thoughts they do seek to entertain the
young impressionable types
     leaving mislead loyalties and blood feuds
  in their wake or 
  perhaps at it

 they don't know if killing each other like 
      this is
    genocide or suicide
i say "both".

v:
   end of the line and all but one
 have satan's brimstone hand took ; all but
      one has fallen in battle so
  'honorably' (inexorably)
 quiet and sick these liver spots see out unto the earth
a thousand tiny plagues for the final horseman
    and the apocalypse he never brought.

vi:
 "i let my
            mother
     down."
  a final regret. 
                      "i left my father 
                shamed"