You hold my life in your hands
But they have holes in them Jesus!
I slipped through

My hands are paper
Turning pages
Folding up
Into shadow puppet birds
So I can fly away
Or stay afloat on this sea of wine and water
Thicker than the rivers running through the torn callouses of your healing touch

I don’t know how to swim in blood
I don’t want to get my feet wet
I don’t want you to wash them
I don’t want you to put new clothes on me
Or buy me a new outfit

Even if I’m running naked in the alleys springing off the highways where folly has dressed up
I would still feel guilty if you bought me clothes again

If blood washes dirt away
I’m still gonna come out smelling like pennies
Looking like rust
Chewing on the little pieces of iron those nails left

Still slipping through the cracks in your skin
And drifting onward until I float through the red door painted black
By the darkness I see as I watch it close behind me once again

Step inside my bedroom.
It holds a warm body
That makes sounds of lust

Step inside my bedroom.
I holds a mind of its own
That releases nothing but laundry

Step inside my bedroom.
It holds a heart of green
That embraces all but hate

Step inside my mind.
Which holds a body hot with anxiety
Who makes lustful tunes of surgical desire

Step inside my mind.
It holds a bedroom if it’s own
That realeases all ‘out phased’ laundry

Step inside my mind.
It holds a heart of mine

Step inside my heart.
It holds a mind of theirs.