i will not.

her pupils were
the greatest
teachers i've ever known.
a muse with a noose,
we talked in the tongues
of pictures past.
a stoic pose
brought about heroic prose.
had she blinked
this ink would
no longer be sufficient,
an epic story cut short.

Romeo is still bleeding,
and no one cares.

her
eyes
made
me
want-

to be a poet.

slurred words match
the hue of two of
the most unforgiving
disciples my i's have
encountered. blasphemy
birthed these idle
hands that carress my
soul with a choke hold.

the gospel of gentics

made an untainted page
breath, inanimate life
follows, accustomed to
her light, and lives by
the grace of my pen.
the sin in the innocence
of a broken verse,
petty nouns and verbs
obscure poetic justice.

so
in
the
spirit
of
salvation-

god did away with black and white pictures.

sacrificed a broken
social scene's heretic
hobby. revisionist pictoral
history forever banned
as long as my words stand.

holy mandates
and my own
colloquial curiosity.

thank you.

(for lizzie.)