You’re paper thin
Wearing a mask
Hiding behind the plumes of smoke from all the joints you roll
Behind trees, behind bushes, hidden away -
You’re always hiding away.
Dissapearing,
behind the slow closing train doors every lazy afternoon.
I’m losing you.

I wake with the birds,
you with the foxes,
searching among the sacred debris of your bedroom
Until the fix is in

I see right through you,
Your empty promises,
the silences you create- so thick and inpenetrable
I feel like I’m suffocating in a hot-boxed car.
Silence disperses when you joke about your future life;
Chained to a silver spoon.

Show me your deck,
Every card bears a picture of a white dove

I see right through you,
See fear so deep and real,
Your kind words die, swallowed up, withdrawing inside
Where I want to be,
Inside the recesses of your mind
where the voices reside

Poor Catholic boy
God doesn’t see right through you
Like I do.