it didn't matter, it never mattered, but it was Sharp. & so we nurtured it.
a little bit of honey on the barbed tip, & the trap is set, the tongue is set. ringing ears whisper sweet when you listen hard enough; just those pesky voices from a faster, wilder revolution on the catherine wheel. but i've ridden this far on my broken horse & i'm mindful to do some ghost-slinging, some gun-busting. i'll turn this salt mine into carthage when i butterfly this hammer. bring me your plowshares my friends & i will return to you irons! i didn't come out here to the fields of brooklyns to gather an army of milksops, cousins! i came to bring you to my palace of catastrophe! where i drink alone in the dark. we are all drinking alone in the dark. a military brigade drinking alone in the dark as our artillary. our long teeth will be our swords till then. our lessons will be in hate & loneliness & how they fit in our hands. how i wasn't sure the edges of the glass cut your hands until i held them & they were slippery.