the guild of gilded guilt

every fear is true, you know
you’ll do the things you hate
clean vomit and the blood, the shit
some human — too old, too young, too broke, too drunk
didn’t wouldn’t couldn’t control, and wipe stains off your cuff, once
they were brains, contained all that were dreams
promises broken

lend your body to strangers, hoping, wondering what
lurks down shadowed hallways ahead: fights
sex, boredom and adventure — will you stand the same
breath every morning? every day (how many?) until you

hold my beer and watch
friends die, old lovers, enemies, ladies
who lunched with laughter, snark, quiet satisfied despair, with you
dearly, with you, and every detail of it
smashing your heart to tatters
poking through
your own scattered wreckage, surely
a zoning violation

finally human
perfect failure, smoking
gun