a salary dictum for removable parts and representational red or white fire

do not cross this fabricated border
this elementary fiddle of locust and barflys
like triumphant sad seasons of regret and lost showtunes
we fill our bags with the returns of the yesterday’s selling
remote skies, the fabric of our greatest gesture
deposed and left like a sternum rub across the country
where the impossible rotating royalty-chimes take to the hymn stature
attempting to lull the undercarriage like missing teeth bribery
here we have camped our endeavors northward
here have we captured defeated incumbents
broken, like a lost army of wedding gifts
traitors for the time repurposed and sacked
and favored only to the distilled God of entry
here speaking to me now, in chivalry
wanting me to have no envy in wedding pearls
no other job, than the rendication of myth
peaked for the stolen purpose of Mars
and the micron turtle on the backs of sails
dredged and uncertain in this alabaster wine
speaking to sailors that regret no mercy
but the awful steps it took to get here
to reflect upon the memories of God
and dragged down servants of trapped mysteries
where fire does not hold them, or burn off their past life
“By now you’ve let known your mystery
I’m just going to come at it then
In no way am I going to be saved by a sailor”