Don’t Worry, It Has a Happy Ending

We’d sing until our throats burst
raw and breaking,
with every fucking chorus
we’d sweat,
we’d breathe in each other’s exhaled curses
and every vaporized
word tasted like catharsis.

We’re still using this —
We’re still walking with our holy crutches
after breaking windows with our feet
and throwing bricks
into the street.

Even as we promised not to take any of this seriously
we killed everyone involved.

As the walls crumbled under our fingernails
and we danced through the conversations
we managed to lose ourselves in the disfiguring,
“we hurt, yes, but never others”
we console each other.
It’s ok.

It’s never okay.
It’s never fine.
It’s never us.
We say.

In the end we were just a pile of ruptured concrete
under a parking lot
for a Costco.
Our lies married our dreams
under the floor
of the frozen food

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