Aerosol

We were saints in the night,

Painting walls with blood and art,

Shitting in the street.

We were models and trophy fucks,

Breathing and burning

And boiling alive

On the freeway exits from

Cleveland to Chicago.

We sold figurines

Of the Dalai Lama,

And when those ran out,

We sold our blood.

We were vampires in the night,

Drinking from strangers,

Words forming inside us.

We spoke in syllables that

Meant nothing outside of

Public restrooms,

Silent as the cold cosmos

Rotating far beyond our

Chemical prisons.

We were gods in the night,

Burning the ozone

With blowtorches and aerosol cans.

We lit the way,

And even the stars dimmed

Before us.