If I was given a life raft the first thing I’d do is
look for a hole to pop in it. My heart is heavy,
but my head is buried, so all you get is the
cruddy leftovers. Could I ever, really ever,
be the man you need, when every little
shift in the breeze brings me to my knees?
Sometimes I wonder if I’m a tender little savage,
unable to not wreck everything with my mouth,
do you know what I’m talking about? and if so,
can you let me know because things are headed south.
I’m traveling alone, marrow and bone. Tomorrow is torn
from the flesh of the next person you’re going to disown.
Tonight we light the last effigy ablaze and wait for morning
to come and show us what ash we made.
Plunging necklines and cliffs, careful where you slip.
Throw out the tin you kept that photograph in.
But don’t throw out that feeling that it had meaning.
My brain is congested and possibly bleeding.
I saw you under a tree that was leaning,
and wanted to lean in.
When I think of my feelings, I think of the sky,
or I think of animals, when in reality we’re
probably just a clump of something in between.
This void doesn’t have a warning, there’s no sign
at the side of the road that says ‘don’t look this way’,
you only realize you’re fucked-up upside down when you
you spot your feet marks on the bottom of the clouds.
My heart is a dart you throw at the ground.
Get me drunk, kiss me on my cheek, spin me around.
Pick me and slam me down like a shot of something brown.