In times of war I want to be a neon
fox a little less lovable but a little
more exciting. I am comfortable
with my smile, but I hate using
my teeth on you. The furry animal
night is also very cold and evident
and it breaking my facade.
It’s five days into the new year,
and with all this talk of war
I’ve decided not to live here anymore.
Not just New York or the US or North
America or whatever hemisphere I’m on.
I mean here generally, you know?
Six days into the new year I’ll regret
much. Like wanting times of war
or a heart opening like a
fist after a 12 rounder. Maybe
if diamonds weren’t forever
alone in their clarity I’d be less
warmongering and I could stay.