All he wanted was a wet kiss
Stained red. And all he was,
Was a concrete floor. And all I did
Was slap him once, because
All he wanted was my
Blood on his skin, and all his skin
Was nothing but destruction. And for once,
All I wanted was destruction. And he
Finally kissed me back, and all I remember
Is bleeding and laughing and crying. And he
Didn’t say much. So all I did was lay
On top of his concrete body and wait,
Because I knew they’d come. All they
Wanted was to see him love, and all I
Did was love. And I promise I won’t
Do it again. (do it again) (do it
Again). I promise.

The moon had a belly ache and
He told gravity to slow down
He told time to slow down
He told the universe to slow down.
But they didn’t listen to him,
Because the moon is
So quiet,
So quiet,
So quiet,
They didn’t hear him
Whisper his worries
And the Earth wouldn’t even
Vouch for him
When he mentioned it at the next
Office meeting.

You’re not a smoker,
You may buy packs of cigarettes
And even own a few lighters, but your
Lips do not curl the way smoker’s lips do

You do not **** in the smoke with a death wish
Nor do you enjoy the thick air slowly threading
It’s way through your lungs.

You might find yourself holding one like a smoker
But you do not have ash stained fingernails;
You do not cough like a smoker
You do not inhale nor do you need one more
After you finished your last one.

You’re not a smoker,
You’re fingers do not lack hope
They are not broken or fading away
They are not yellow and they are
Definitely not grey.

They seem to be alive,
Very much alive.

I don’t care about the set of patients with high blood pressure
Or finding the number of people who did not have exactly two of the indications listed: patients with high blood pressure, patients with high cholesterol, or patients who smoke cigarettes.
I couldn’t careless that three circles make up this (venn)-diagram
And that you must start in the center,
Nothing good will come from me knowing that 46 people have high cholesterol when I don’t even know how to fix them. They’re all made up anyway.
I won’t obtain anything from sitting in a cold classroom, listening to a student hack up his lungs because he’s over 50 and still threading smoke through his lungs; he probably has all three problems.
All I do is poke and **** at time that moves so slowly
And exchange ideas with my fingers, ignoring calculator instructions and written kindergarten numbers
Hoping the day stays young and my eyes stay open

It’s all about texture, cracks on the dried up leather
where you curl up and and bury yourself, it’s all about the way your skin moves around your bones
how far you can touch your toes
like details crashing, instant passing
we glance and look over those cracks, scars, stains, lines, scratches, anything that makes us human, anything that pulls the paint farther across the canvas than smears it up and down with angry finger prints
we are reaching out with red or pale marks, purple dust that turns into mountains
you work with the colors you are given but you build texture
you create movement
you discover what makes you, you

A bearded man who talks so wise
Whisked up a broth full of lies
I was told by the man with the great big beard,
‘Eat up your soup, I dare you too my dear’
And so I did.
With golden desires
And a dream that expired;
I canned it,
I labeled it,
I shipped it over the ocean too.
My lies soon devoured
And absorbed into their skin;
Please, let the mind bending begin.

I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year.

Here I stand again in this broken town
Where my face turns up and I turn down
Here in the streets of home I'm bound
Tracing our names carved into the ground
You I see under each streetlamp's fire
You I made a crown from copper wire
Each gust of air whispers into my ear
Your name; I write it with every tear
I wanted to be your strength, your queen
Yet for all those mistakes I made unseen
You paid in full, though I tried to give
Myself for you-my life so you would live
I wanted to remove your pain and sorrow
For I felt it too, and it stripped each tomorrow
Of the hope felt in our endless coast
Where once life was what we made most
Little I cherish what has happened to me
I've endured such you should never see
It matters not, and naught that I care
Except for making these days you bear
Less difficult, and much I will find
To do for you, to make clocks unwind
I will spin you those lost ribbons of gold
The little worlds that went untold
I know them all, my memory's treasure
Though my sadness comes from pleasure
I will always remember what was true
All our moments and our failures, too
And the night when my lips faded to blue
I realized, there was no me before you.