lorca by Steve Calamars

soft clocks shatter
against hard times

as we crush cars
like accordions and
tear tanks in two like
tissue paper

because the muscle strains
in our chests
turned out to be heart ache

which turned into
heart burn and left
our insides scorched
as martian suburbs

so now we butcher
butterflies and assassinate
landscapes just to
feel alive

even though
we can hear our
deaths like
black violins

and see our futures
bursting like fire works
and femoral arteries

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