Heroes

The night fumbled with its noose. The feeble suicide of happiness. An opera of cigarette butts. A symphony of skin. Amid the epilepsy of the heart.

She once was young. Young enough to open those zippers with only a stare. Sucking on the remains of their underwear. Dining on the marrow. Of liars. And friends. Sucking out the cancer of their touch. Until the disease was hers. To manipulate. The calm cocktails of hysteria. And loneliness. Turning the away the curtain from that darkness. Choking out castles in the mud.

The sermons in their glances. Steady. Circuses of sex. To tame dead tigers. To wake sleeping lions. To remember. To forget.

To remember. The clown without his makeup. So happy. It's over. So sad it's done. Lost in the white of painted faces. Frozen in the promenade of red, red lips.

Wheelchair supermen and their addiction to the kryptonite. I want my fix. I want to be weak. And powerless. I want to know what it's like to be the one who's saved.

I'm your hero again tonight. But who'll be mine?