three chalk outlines sleep in the dirty street and in our beds, under the sheets, they're the halo of guilt hanging around your neck, next to the rosary you count, falling asleep and we're praying to treat the symptoms of letting go of all our hope. since we can't compete with martyred saints, we'll douse ourselves in gasoline and hang our bodies from the lampposts so that our shadows turn into bright lights 'white light, white heat' we'll make as we're blacking out in the center lane, we swerve to the beat, spill all the ink No revisions Do you hear the church bells ringing? wake up!! wake up in an outline and try to speak with the shattered voice of the lives we lead... have we slept too long between the bullet holes in a stained-glass window state? when we repent, we fall on the