I pick up the steel.

It does not matter who I was before I did.

Born blue, wandering into a back alley, covered in black, shitty blood.

Bars on windows and doors.

The ever subtle tracing of her fingertips on my motherwound.

Hiding from the inside of a trash can.

I am burning inside of her cigarette.

I am going to ruin my life for this fucking love, melodies of relaxing next to a gun.

The police state outside softens to the curves of her body.