perfection in the dark

 
 
fear is a stray dog  
dry humping your  
leg.
 
an ill moon pulls
knives from the
eyes of wounded
stars.
 
fire up a match
and light a Lucky
Strike,
 
then finger bang
the world.
 
dead man's  
hand,
 
dead end
road,
 
dead is the
face of the
rose lying  
in the dirt,
 
the arms and legs
of the future are
broken.
 
love has blacked  
out from a week
long bender on
the Vegas strip
 
and no matter
what our intent...
 
in the end,
 
there will be  
blood.