“I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”
-Apocalypse Now

I love the smell  
of fresh blood in the morning 
the stench of burning flesh    
venting through my every pore 
How your lips are pressed for time 
how mine grow red and sore 
from the bruising and the biting 
How to find love more inviting 
when both feet are out the door 

I don’t know why 
this reverie…the dust of memory   
slips through our mind and fingers 
like sand in an hourglass  
Why the present must be the past 
what’s in store    why nothing lasts 
why we cannot linger more 

Smoke and tears well from within
the melting moon is listening in
the veil of night is wearing thin
It won’t be long now… 

Your lips   the kiss of death  
the hint of strangers on your breath 
How our world keeps ending 
with each new inning    like that old song 
How your heart tick tick ticks  
                                      like a time bomb

You’re the living end     
the grand finale    
I most look forward to—   
the reason I turn blue 
You’re every season on Netflix   
you’re napalm   with a kick 
WHY  I’m turning cold and stiff 
my lips pressed to yours 
my sweet apocalypse