Contrary to Unpopular Belief – James D. Casey IV

Runes on the bones of forgotten dreams trying to remember
not hurting themselves, consumed on a park bench under a wet newspaper
in the rain, crying on a payphone call
to a home that doesn’t exist.

Piano notes in an old worn out duffle bag behind the eyes
of a thousand violins, and justice unfound in a cruel world slipped away.

Thirteen moons and a million sub-machine guns
stolen from an unmarked van.

We can’t get out and get through
these feathered nuclear clouds
that seems so close to the ground here.

Small culminated victories that only exist
in your mind making love to a dirty needle
in spider silence at 3 a.m.

A morbid feeling in your veins, it
breaks down your spirit and buys your soul
a few dollars at a time.

Long faces frowning back in the rain,
speaking of a better tomorrow,
lying to get by,
and contrary to unpopular belief . . .
you will never make it
out of this life alive.

The prey tries to pray away the hunger
of their dreams’ poor and tired bones,
while the war junkie rats get fat
sipping on wine made of God’s tears.