42

im collecting skulls and remains
from Bostons stars
theyve been drowned out
by the impending crusifxtion
of all that harbors honesty.

the effort i've presetned
in hopes to save you
has been washed out
bleach and iodine
prove me useless
prove me irrelevant

I miss those stars
guiding what was left of compassion
night skies are empty
and dreams lay barren
crime remains the closest contact

lost in the changing seasons
the scent of rejection lays heavy
amongst spring
the stars fall to their deaths
foul amongst farm
capital amongst an empty sea

the guiding voices we all turn to
are mute and have withdrawn
leaving a trail of blood
and a filthy city dirty with regret.