a gaze that pierces veils
of iron curtain tragedy
the weight of painkillers 
it all presses in like a phalanx of soviet states.

rolling thunder, blurred and blistered
shame as dull as anything else
anti-focus and step-sisters
ground up and bottled by the pound.

it looks like it's made of marble
but really it's just convincing glass
hewed by two-sided buyers
protesting your front doors
but coming in the quiet, thru the cold and clear nights
humble in their asking for more.

money talks, I guess. just as peter would deny it
come back from hell with your order
bliss-burned as the forktongues fried it
seasoned with shaven achilles heel.

your heroes, your honored and valored
have all done evil in their days
I've lived just to taste their tears again
before i'm off on separate ways.

the least i'll admit is who I am
and the greater evil betwixt us
is how quickly and comfortably you'll forget
the last time you met me.