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Geoff Farina
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The Rights
Found out your with the pills on the shelf.
Found out you may have swallowed the sun yourself.
I can see your belly where the rays come right out.
I'll wait as the fire refines the lines around your mouth.
As traffic ends the fall events,
The hands of accidents and travel bends.
The rights don't have the permission to give
For us to live the way we live.
'This town makes faggots of us all.'
You say, 'It's not my word, so it's not my fault.'
But language is on the side of harm and stability,
And I can't stand the way my own words sount to me.
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