Today I am weighted down,
Weights of lead, of life,
Not tied to my tired shoes,
But in my hands,
And I do not how to put them down.
My palms, blistered blissfully
With marks from lovers and liars alike.
I want so badly to love my lips,
My hands,
My heart,
But they've done such damage,
Conquered with such
fiery,
clumsy
force
That even their owner must admit their faults.
I want to do better,
So much better,
But sometimes, sometimes,
I feel it is too late, to far into the winter,
I've died young,
Burned out before I even learned to fly.

To whomever can hear me on the other side of things:
What does it feel like to believe what you're told?
Does it feel like everything, or like nothing,
Is your world full, or is it stark?
Does your mind look like I think it might look,
Like static behind your eyes when you close them,
And you answer with “I'm thinking, I'm thinking.”

****, son, it's late, it's too late.
But he sends her up for him anyways, first over the phone, then up the elevator, then down the hallway
And he welcomes her inside with the smell of hotel sheets.
Sorry for the draft, and he stuffs a towel into the crack below
the door.
She's like a duchess on a throne which is his bed,
and he sits across from her and puts the coffee on to drip as she undoes herself
jewels
dress
hair
which tumbles down her back and it wants to go further but she stops it
He pours them each a cup, it smells of vanilla and faraway places
And he wonders if shes ever been to any of them,
the faraway places,
But only for a short moment does he wonder this,
as she is here to make love to him,
and he scrubs the veneer from his face and
Lets her look at him
for a little while
Before he beckons her into him
And he whispers his secrets in her ear
as she Rocks Back and Forth
in his lap
like a cat or a merry-go-round,
And she makes him feel like a man in love,
Maybe even a married man,
A man with a deep, mad, certain love
that won't keep him awake at night.

Goodnight, sweet little *******.
Your innocence is going, and you'll hate the world the instant you wake up,
And you'll scream and want ***** so you can throw it all up to feel the burn in your nose
and in your throat
and in your mind,
and you'll wake with a new grater light to shine through your ***** windows, you'll buy yourself a
nice
new
car
with a
nice
new
woman,
you'll ride down Main Street, making loud noises and cursing
at men in suits
and women with babies
and children that they drag along behind them,
and you'll treat yourself like a god and eat what you want
and **** who you want
and no one will be able to touch you
ever
again.