the see-thru states

of liminal infamy

"don't let me down" 

sung in desperate drams

beacons prain

from a street corner

 

affixed and shorn and 

bare-truthed,

snaggle toothed:

cleft palates and anaphylaxis 

sanded down by time

into a shape something 

much like mine

(too much)

 

please see me

but don't look;

a shared hypocrisy 

wrung motes of pulpit spittle fly.

in passing

while pinkies

desperate to overlap

and

dampen promises in kisses 

deep

deep

deep

much too good to be wasted 

on the fearful;

on misspent youth.

here, in these streets

crowded and lonely

we drowned in truth.

 

"don't let me down"