BUN

tho my dreams are violent rows 
of busted legs and bombs in long bars
my
whisky
guns
are empty as dead suns gone now
and
i
am
delicate enough rocking in daylight bows
to
gasp in cool air and brim with salty water
at the text of a sweet snack offer
that
i
cried over it/died over it
and
held together on its 
strong font shoulders a clean marching soldier 
speaking the safe mantra
of
simplicity's sparks
and
a
moment
in
life