There'll be no sleep, 'til our work is done.

I put on my Sunday's best
and I realize that all of yesterday
was spent
waiting for you to let down your guard.

I am a child.

I wander the junkyards
in search of all the little teeth
that have
disappeared from underneath my pillow.

Sleepless nights are just as unsuitable.
The arterial flame flickers.
Fuel it with whiskey sours.

Because she is the mother to all strays.
Because a threat arises.
And I approach.
Lamb to slaughter.
Man to laughter.
Am to after.