The First Storm Of The Season And Who We Lost at

The First Storm Of The Season, And Who We Lost

The First Storm Of The Season, And Who We Lost

written by: John Sweet


and i thought we’d known hunger
and i thought we’d known doubt

thought the news of your death would
keep us all going,
keep us all warm through the winter and
he says he’s lost but he’s always saying this
and she calls him a liar

sings quietly to herself in a room
filled with the memory of sunlight

a house on fire but
maybe these are only words

maybe our days are grey on grey,
dirty snow,
dead animals on the roadside,
and maybe poetry is as meaningless as christ

maybe judas held the key

a price for everything
and a refusal of saviours

we all die alone but we all die
and this only part of the equation

not all truth is despair

not all pain is shared equally

tells him this and he laughs

punches her in the face

first snow of the season, sound of
his god’s voice like a scream in a vacuum

nothing and then
nothing from nothing

a stone wall
topped with shards of broken glass

a cup of blood for every orphan
dying of thirst but
will you build the monuments?

fuck no

who wants to remember a nobody?

who wants to celebrate anything other
than wealth and celebrity?

and he understands this
and he hates everyone

hates himself like he hated his parents, like
he can no longer stand to see his
children and he begs for forgiveness
but she’s gone

the silence of waking up in dull
dust-colored light,
the taste of pain and despair and
will you be a statistic?

dead at 5:30 on a sunday morning in
the season of wasted chances

lost, yes, but motion is the key

no one is found if everyone runs

the cities will burn no matter
how many gods you pray to

silence is a skill

none of us are born knowing fear
but it finds us all soon enough

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