Could I have a break, from your leash? It’s wrapped like a snake around my neck; Cracking the vertebrate, it’s ruined the voice box Making me a mute, it seems, or Hold another pillow over my face, if you like? And I’ll just lie there, smile, and agree to stay down. Turning blue again. The veins on my forehead Are popping like fireworks.
Is that my backbone, sprawled on the floor? Awkward like a wingless bird. Spineless boy - I don’t know you. Put down your glass of Jack, He doesn’t have the answers either - But you try and try, every barbiturate laced night To find him and The courage to exhale.
Completely inverted now; Like fish bubbles they spill out; the yes, yes, yes’. Puppet strings still sewn haggard Into the shoulder blades. I’ll take blunt knives and cut them loose, or Grate away at the bone And make marrow mints. Either way, I won’t be living for you.
Acht. Shht. Grinding teeth on sandpaper heaps, The little white specks corrupt the air Like whiskers of dust; Dead skin for a dead man like me.
Old shoe, old you. In the same room, with a parker pen and a muse And specious grin, like a madman who Will push and tug but never get through The translucent veil made of moth wings and grease.
Paper man, who drinks ashes and ink Built of flesh and bone, held together with rubber bands; He keeps coming back for the girl in the boat, Who wears a tear to the neck: Which leaks with tar or gasoline.
He’ll bite and grip, with canine stubs And pray she’ll never retreat or Wave a white flag in the homebuilt cage, Which locks up the distance, Like a mocking clock.