To Our Sin, Brother

Remember when we were way too young
To be up past one. Outside burning smores
Being chased by your campfire smoking.
Curiously poking sticks in to set ablaze.

What about those days, late teens, when
We should have been way too busy
But way too dizzy, burning joints by night
And in folly's height, cutting our classes

Or twenties, in ashes, burning midnight oil
Via two packs, royals, and smelling like shit
I prayed your grit would be smoothed over,
With work, dumb rovers, and tons of money

Thirty's: found my Bunny, you needed more
Styrofoam gasoline whore, razing targets
For this "Marcus". Where was my friend?
No longer could pretend. So we split ways

Bunny and I, a no-delays-three-kids team
I hear horrors, extreme, that your only kids
Are stored under lids, charred, thick rope
And brother, I hope you burn at the stake