Old BMX scavenged and repaired from someone’s trash.
I ride it down the street of this empty suburb, left to rot.
Dark houses, overgrown yards, and the blue light morning.
I hide from the war here, where no one remains, nothing left.
The streets are cracking, and dandelions bloom in there place.
I ride in the morning, just before light, though it tempts ghosts.
All our lives were left behind when we turned on one another.
We called up demons to win victory, and won our damnation.
The war is ongoing, and no one can win, and no one let’s it go.
It is summer, and there is no playgrounds filling their purpose.
It is summer, and I made a tribute to a lost one, to believe in.
A little shrine to famed model, so someone will listen in the dark.
I ride to the mouth of the subdivision, looking out on the city.
Smoke against a velvet sky, the crackle of distant gunfire, again.
All the world over, all the way down, no other meat on the carcass.
I turn back to my hidden den in a basement, were Cara talks to me.