The birthing ground is overcome with disease
Plucking poetry from the sea
Whiskey fed shutters pounding against me
My flesh spasms
My arms spread wide out following my track marks
You'll be so proud of me
I will let you love me

I don't need  to love me not tonight
I placed my fear of death into a jar
We can float upon the magic dust
A night we will never forget
I see footsteps in your eyes
Put on your bird tongue
With your beak , peck away at my yellow teeth