Wipeout on Lover's Lane

Like I told the cops at the carnage
I'm not exactly sure how I crossed
The double yellow lines of communication.
I mean I swear I was sober.
Maybe I just got bored and let slip
That piece of mind centered on survival
That all God's creatures
Large and small possess.
Last I remember the whites
Of our eyes blinded reason
Leaving me wading
Ankle deep in puddles of blood.
Trying to untangle the vines
Of veins and arteries from one another
In the remains of an overwrought rain.
Dreaming of the day I strip
The arrow from the bow
Of the cordovan beast,
Dipping the tip in arsenic
And piercing the skin
Of the throat of that charlatan
Of a cherub with his belly
Full of chicanery and chocolate.
Demanding to know
How the impact from emotions
As benevolent as love
Can be so emasculating
As to render me a eunuch
For the rest of my days.
Valentine may well be a saint
But this Cupid be the devil incarnate,
Hell, both of them motherfuckers
Look real good in red.