in this death

Let me for a moment
dance across this broken plain
and spit out words
to brick over the silence.

This guy is dead --
I am off, my mind is
latent and I feel nothing
but shattered heart sounds
and anger --

Paralyzed, the worst form
of inconsideration (but what
would you expect
from an artist living
piecemeal by the con?)

He died atop his candy apple
and as he tumbled to the floor
he grasped the fabric of our hearts
and yanked. What a bastard.

Fire and a feather
lodged in my chest
as I feel everything --
nothing at rest.