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Turn on all the lights and punch them out. All four burners going, pile it on
fire. Metal sparks in the nuclear box. Fist through a window pane and our
broken coffee cups litter the kitchen floor. Smoke rolling across the
ceiling suck down the bride's champagne and swallow a few more sleepy ones.
Pass the bottle to none and swing from the gate. Speak in the name of
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suffering as loud as it gets. Knuckled holes in everything spittle and love
fling into a crying eye that runs away. A dead dog in the street nothing
brings a slain king back. You'll never know the bittersweet smell of leaving
this world of your own volition. So jacked up.
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