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So Sweet We've Become Blind
My town is an Autumn blood-bath.
During the car ride home from church,
you can catch glimpses
of bodies hung under the influence of blind men.
Abdomen flesh sliced, gaping.
Hollow interior openly exposed,
draining thick liquid ignorance;
the color of red wine,
staining garage floors.
Lips stretched from ear to ear
snap a picture
with prized possession.
Laugh, and crack a beer.
Paint son’s neck
from the pond pooling
all so gracefully
onto the garage floor.
Dim the lights,
until the human eye
cannot conceive such exhibits.
dowse in honey goodness
then sprinkle with rose petals.
and
I laughed,
when Juliet picked up the dagger
romance so sharp we should pierce our pulse.
When childhood fairytales,
aren’t really all that pure.
When I received
postcards,
from the local lynching.
When the front doors,
were drenched
in the blood of the lamb.
When we
blow each other's heads off,
for our country.
And
I swear,
it all looked so sweet.
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I've always felt like I'm living in a world surrounded by evil, all in appealing packages.