The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree,

I shall be enveloped, intoxicated in it's last words effigy,
Transcribed across the tablets of the deserts final plea,
It searches for my body
The coyote calls my name,
The sands ask for me as a trophy
They swallow up my grave,

The slits of eyes in my wrist and thighs show my life's vision out to sky, it sees the world from the deep inside where I hid it in my skin and my arteries,

When you find me dead bury me in the sand, il be a sand angel in 2010,

I was never worth consoling, hid from every one I knew, finally at the end you found you hate me too.

Guilts too hard to take, it ***** in my soul like a vacuum, guilt beats hate, Benton falls down in the bathroom,

The tiles watch him **** on the floor
He collapsed then shat and vomited more, whole lives fall in the toilet. too moist as miscarried babies,
So bury me in the desert,
So the mocking bird can't say ****.

I’ve got these worn clotheslines
and street wires humming across my brain

in cold winters chill you told me I was eloquent
but I still cannot seem to remember your name

I stopped smoking to make room for you in my lungs
You didn't find that suitable enough so you left

We are the same person if your bed
has held more people in it than your heart

I see this warmth of a summer day
but I can never know the touch of it on my skin

I wonder what it feels like to be kissed by the sky
Probably kind of like kissing

**you

When you have a second,
I can show you what happens
after you take something meant
to be so deliciously singular
and trick it into becoming
part of a collection.

Just let me see if I can
fit under this microscope.
I'm sure the findings
will be worth writing down.

You asked me by chance in a momentary passing
if I happened to have a lighter

I patted my pockets desperately
for the red one that is usually hidden

I saw you were already turning to leave
and knowing I was losing time

I promptly lit myself on fire just to see
your statuesque form inhale in front of me a bit longer

I watched you walk away into the gray fog
I've never seen you since that day

But I have ever since found myself burning
Literally singed with desire

knitting with scissors you run with.
will get you there. but you can't buy a house. i'm sorry.
you might, miiiiight get the Edwardian Tudor for a mansion in false claim
but you keep your gaze, your weary gaze ....and slumber not so sweet, my sweet.
knitting with false gods will get you everything
but  Not the Other Thing
that gnaws at the substance of your gut
where the heart resides like a lion
addicted to Aesop Fables -
and dry humors that decimate with bounty
flooding the bleak with our windmills !
you and i are regardless.

knitting with shopping carts and dead batteries. washing ashore.
lick your lips at the foam
of our hysterical event. pitch a ******* tent.
and eat more stars than you came in with.

sew the hole
with a hole and
answer the phone sometimes,
****.

i ain't got all day but you might take your time
like an aspirin.

I loved her body
And I used it up
The parts I liked
I drank up with a fever
Of thirst
That left her
Dry and frail
And I would have felt bad
If I wasn’t so
Dry and frail
When I met her
And now I suppose she’ll
Go
And find someone else
Whose parts she likes
And after that we’ll both be hydrated enough
To look at the parts we aren’t so fond of.