learned defeat

sewing soft stitches in unnerved unsteady lines 
still new at old practices, still young as the thread winds 
around a needle’s head, through the almost-fabric like 
skin. 

little sips from plastic bottles, quantity over quality 
relieved, briefly, by a quick, cheap casualty 
carcinogen cracked lips that long to steep themselves in 
water.

covering mouths in quick succession, eyes red 
as throats and noses, lathering on thick layers of lead 
avoidable and yet forever in thoughts and prayers kept are the 
sick.

the ebb and flow of chests rising to greet breath 
there is no return address, there is no madness to this meth-
od that makes no care for those that long for the clean kiss of 
air.