moonrises blink at our sullen feet
pattering left, fight, left, right
towards parties - illegal to attend -
and beggars that line the streets like statues
waiting for a crumb of ignorance
to drip from our lips
beholden to no one
we wait for whispers to coax us
out of heating vents
from behind molten walls
out, away, out, away
strolling step-by-step along a battlefield
but you tried war on once
like a bitter dress, a tasteless pair of shoes
and you didnt like it
did you?
