When We Were Monsters

When We Were Monsters

I’m gonna lose my mind
          —in mono and without Technicolor.
This ain’t me, my values are old
          and forgotten.

But I’m unwrapp’d and dy’n
          with an outstretch’d moan’n.

I see life in lightn’n—and know fear
          in fire.

There’s a delicious song
          in desperate screams.
          Custom goes
that we should feed on one another,
          swapp’n secrets in blood
          and bonds in whispers.

There ain’t no reason not to.

Reason flies on broomsticks
          through moons,
meant for noth’n more

          than howl’n.

                              K. R. Allen