insecticide.

Earth fenced us in and the ghetto filled to its brim.
No one screamed or cried, we all sat down and held hands with invisible strangers who left us long ago. Lungs inhaled the stale atmosphere one last time, as the flood trickled in and wandered round blistered feet.
A cold end rose to erect prose upon prepared chests and cheeks.
Air escaped through quivering mouths as we watched on,
and with those pleading eyes rolling, fading,
we were gone.

With that merciful pen an inscription was left
aloha is all it read
though, asshole is what it meant
don't trust the rain!

There were watchmen just below the currents of an estuary next door
for floors of three stood above tired lives and absent minds.
What was here to protect? It's lost on me, only dead waters and abandoned concrete to see.

To the shining sea we float on
for our hearts are stagnant and cold
and all past memories are growing old
but these lips still open and crave an exchange, whether of words or warm fluids.
A fire burns in frozen corpses for a low hum and a vibrant tune
of tongues dancing 'tween thirsts and knotted wrists
'cause we are bound in a paranormal prison of paradoxical bliss
we are done, and we are dead
...as door nails go.