You are the blacksmith’s hot iron.
I am an expired star.
You are the victory lap.
I am an uncoiled extension chord.
Broken bottles.
Smoking cloves.
Fences posts.
Ghosts of New Year’s past.
I laugh to keep my lungs from collapse.
Elliott Smith on the jukebox.
This year I’m going to fall down,
be ready with the chalk.
I’m a million miles away.
Stuck in place.
Adrift on my own planet.
Roaming outer space.
Get my Alpha Centurion on.
I’m the bottom bonbon.
One man Jamaican bobsled team.
Making dreams deflate
when you show your face
Listening to The National,
like a professional
sad guy.
Oh, why
did I have to play About Today?
Put on some Johnny Cash,
throw a glass at the wall,
watch it go smash.
FUCK RHYMES!
LeAnn ain’t got shit on mine.
Walking to the corner.
My eyes look like a foreigner’s.
You said forever, but meant till Tuesday.
Aimee Man doesn’t give a damn.
I guess we speak a different language.
I need a filter for my pictures.
Wash out my Brita. I still won’t kiss ya.
There is no airbag.
No snorkel mask.
My watch doesn’t run.
My brain doesn’t stop.
This heart isn’t empty,
guess what’s inside.
But don’t look.
And don’t cheat.
And actually…
don’t guess anything.
Walking home from the bar.
The night like a wet dog.
You are the tiny frog in my throat,
the one that makes me croak.
My mother was in my dream last night.
So was my ex-wife.
They repossessed my car.
But left me with my knife.
There was a tiny beach,
with tiny sea shells,
a hut,
where horny little tourists fuck.
Got a random call from Atlanta.
Ran out on my bill at Canters.
Ran into the street, a lonely dancer.
Got a death threat from Santa.
I am the prisoner’s lucky stripes.
You are the avalanche’s bugle horn.
I am the bouncer’s wet nipple.
You are the universe’s endless churning.
Let’s drink the mead,
time’s running out,
Let’s do the deed.
Art of Starving 