I'm under the gun
And above the petrified remnants
Of the plastered smile society.
I'm once again gliding,
Not to touch the pavement.
I no longer scream at night.
Into the tunneled memory of my failures.
I appreciate the thought,
But I don't want your poison.
You're punished by the anesthetic
That lines the walls of your wound
In healing pinstripes.
Disinfecting the memory
Of the nights you picked the scabs
To relive each battle
That you fought in the
City of Fire
Sing in me Sinister Muse!
And tell all our friends
The story of the sulfur
And the lies.

-Steve?-