Anti-Social Day

We all paint time black

We cut our tongues at eighteen 

We grow out of clothes

Jocose's Nearsightedness

those that lick out at my lips

that whip and brush like white flames

growing bluer

they scratch at themselves:

"Let's bury all the evidence under a marble."

those that form to protect my incorrigible heart

laughing as they weigh everything down.

oh, those that twist

that work their ways into facts

becoming truths

they come out in a haze of sparks:

"I want to leave you far behind"

those words that etch together to start

tearing as they turn you around.

those that smile

that move your mood

lifting up

they were just for the time being:

"You thought wrong"

those things I said to you

never thinking them through or true.