words by dominic riccitello

black sunrise to white sand
ashes in the fire
but lightning strikes
rarely in our time
he rides
with violins in the background
he cries with strobes
death without hope
i’m rhyming, i’m lying
i’m fucking dying
and now we’re screaming
hateful things
throwing wine and sheets
of words we wrote in anger
slamming walls with red
painting passion where it went wrong
we said we’d never see the day
but it’s tuesday