I won’t sing right now
They’ve taken the joy out of it
I don’t remember the song with all the flats
And I linger much too long
On that half-note
I can feel the marble weight of the song
Inside my ribs
I cannot distinguish its shades.

I won’t sing right now
I want to go, even alone,
To find myself a little round
Wooden table
A cigarette and a cocktail
Which I’ve had before
A mix of:
Vermouth, peach liquor, and self-pity
I will drink it slowly
As it burns my inner-flesh