Author disclaimer: this is the second of two poems about the American moment. It is not a description of my personal mental state.

*****

I wrap our words around my throat 

And give a forceful pull,

I let the empty promises be scattered in a row.

I watch the memories shift and break from golden into black.

I take it back.

I take it back.

I want to take it back.

.

I take the memories and hold them 

Softly til they fade.

I inhale their bleak residue while burning them with flames.

I get high on whatever’s left, it’s probably just shame.

Make it rain.

Make it rain.

Make it rain with shame.

.

I asphyxiate my only soul and it honestly feels good.

I’d nail myself nude on a cross, but that’s probably too lewd.

So, I fill my heart with gasoline and light a cigarette—

I pirouette.

I pirouette.

I wave bye, pirouette.