We were both twenty-one that new years eve soldiers to our older hearts joining the revelry-on Hindley street standing within the joyousness quite apart in our strangeness our inability to let these demons go and dance around like 'bent gazelles'.
I remember what you told me the inescapability of a name how cards would turn-revealing aces while four deuces stole the game, it was not madness in your eyes in part I felt the same yet, I saw every battle leading like an overaccumulation of tattoos towards a lack of space converging to nothing.
Ten years can find us free they can find us-mired where we began I can picture the violence of colossus within the exterior of a solitary man yet, there are moments hell will wither-beating at its own flames search with honesty for water having never known the sound of rain while within a barest sense for heroes as we shared my last cigarette you told me my poetry was my deepest anger as there is no rhyme in the cards we most regret.
I remember when you died how they spoke of a life, yet not once a man mentioning an overaccumulation of bullets issuing a defeat no fists ever could a mindless death, equally, the media recital of every scar born of a world unknown sheer will of this capture unguarded I walked away while you fell to their dues while those three beautiful aces never came close nor held regard to blind luck nor circumstance or two dubious pairs of twos.
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