it's just that ******* tap tap tapping
but away it goes
up and down, up and down the rows
of violets and tulips.
and she had two lips and violence
violent love and hate
crimes against humanity,
if there was ever any left
up and down, up and down the rows
of streets and cars
the lines and scars etched in his skin
but there's nothing like
a bottle of gin
numb around the edges, the seams
because everything is ever as it seems
and they just let it keep running
up and down, up and down the strands
leaving marks like brands to sell
the weave, the inches, the criss-crossed and sashayed
and she has one because it never looked to be
as long as she would like it as long as they would ask for,
and the years go on
so the tears flow on
growing longer, and taller
up and down, up and down the walls
of granite and moss
just one quick toss over the edge
because maybe humpty dumpty had it right.
nobody can piece that one together
like it's some big puzzle just twigs and grass,
make up the *** that he wanted to be
getting nothing that he wanted because he never asked
called or scrawled, just pushing, screaming
up and down, up and down the floor
of hardwood and paces
like jacks and aces handed out to those
who had them, no reward or achievement
it's own gift of life, and sometimes it's longer than you wanted
while crawling hands and knees to pick up
your ****** fingertips along the edges of cards,
because it's going to be okay.
because it will always be.