The Words Cannot Return

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Killing is easy.

A matter of moments, like slicing stale bread.

Still, our thermal ghosts live on—

Synapses immune to entropy.

I saw the scalp of a girl once,

Incinerated like garbage

The bomb dog bore her up the alley—

Her wet humanity a tennis ball in the springtime sun.

We are dissolved in binaries

Right, wrong, dead, alive

“Dolce et decorum est,” ”Give peace a chance,”

“I’ll keep you alive,” I lied to a friend;

In the end, he couldn't dodge his own bullets.

What a pitiful, miserable lie--

I want to crawl under the earth

I want to begin again

This time, as a quiet boy

Or else nothing--anything

But easy.