Lines and lines of heartache-headaches

A furtive look, the mathematics of sin
A stolen high
Way out, into alleys of pure, bright indifference
Sheltering from goodbyes said through choking fumes
And boyfriends waiting to not know
Targets of unseen jealousy

Justifying secret passion for the promise of amniotic intimacy
And marbled floors of wind-swept bedrooms
And lines and lines of heartache-headaches
And overzealous conversations at prayer-call sunrises
Spilt over bodies, half remembered from nights before
Where grass filled lungs confuse the quotidian and epiphany

Know-nothing f*ck-ups chase mirage dreams
Down bottlenecks and into ashtrays
Praying
That one day the profane will offer the lie of salvation
Steadfastly believing in nothing
Yet the hope that this is more than a flower
A garland trampled into tomorrow's street