Cocaine & Flowers

When the gods came to America with a bag of cocaine and
    flowers they were beheaded.
Their death had nothing to do with the president as he burns gods
    who come to him

with desire and a lie. So when I arrive at the capital, do I behead
    myself or cut out my tongue?
Forget my question, instead, let me give you a memory. Three
    people in it: a boy, a president,

a father. My story devours lies as desire spits out familiarity, and
    still, I stand in the mystery
of dead gods. No, I can’t drown the flowers. I crave them the way a
    man craves
People on couch
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