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Dec 2011
Tex
You,
And the smell that soaks your fingers
Relative of plastic
Of chemical, clean
That spark I found in your eye
The likes of which I'd only caught once
Reflected in mine
Of punishment and heat
Of sin drawn to sin
And that name
The only fiber of you which slips my tongue
Lost in the ache, that moment, uncut
Purgatory in the itch
Of the crawling, of hunger
Stretched tight, the rubber of your skin
That night on the sink edge
I was transformed
Born into a need, a slow burn
On the back of your guitar
I traded in these bones for bread
Of brown dogs and devils
Homesick for heaven
Of feelings lost in the drip
Oh for Southern gentlemen
All snake eyes and slow drawl
Sad cheap trick souls, all the same
Creatures of arrangement, of mutual gain
Krissy Schiller
Written by
Krissy Schiller
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   Krissy Schiller
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