There Are No More Guns

then the sunlight wasted away my life
like a gunshy cowboy
without a second thought of blood
without a nurturing wound to display
he walked all over the midnight ground

but a whisper that clasped to my cheek
stung me deeply
with an undeserving melody of
slightly over thought moments

i wanted him to stop singing, though
i wanted him to stop wasting my time
with his unwanting of my words
hewn onto a paper cross
that bled to death on a book shelf

there was no propitiation
there was no imitated sadness
but the melancholy weapons
hung on my neck like a gun
waiting to be praised
for its useless bullets
of charm
and wit
and fucking pompous arrogance