At first it was bare and ripe for the picking -
my chest was pulsating under your weight you
stripped my heart like an exotic dancer would:
all eyes and no hands.

After the initial grasp, the puff puff pass and the
smiles exchanged between our legsarmslimbs and the
time it took to be rid of the excess skin crowding us in,
we breathed in sweet, sweet fumes of spring and said
things kept in our mouths, light like ecstasy but
heavier than the average promise.

But the hours it took to argue the hunger away made our
heads ache and eventually our jaws could clench no longer,
our eyes could see no more of each other - just smoke and
******* clouding our way - it was lost,
whatever it was, it

was lost.

Mistakes rest on my collarbones
William Burroughs knocks on my chest and listens to the echoes

Catch my breath and weigh the possibilities

Navigating the side streets
we drink tequila from a tea *** while the bowl moves counterclockwise

Tuck my friendships back into pockets and carry them like loose change.
Take a penny, leave a penny
Just don't leave me lonely.

I lay in your front yard with my mouth wide open
I capture the songs of the day so we can share them in the moon light

You simply go through the motions
your mind full of figures,
while I think about thinking
                                               of thinking
                                                        ­          of thinking
                                                        ­                             a thought.

I fumble through life, my shoe laces tied together
You laugh into our kiss and call me useless

So please,
use less of me.

Lipstick cigarettes and the empty soul of modern rock n' roll
laid in ruin amongst my collection of black soul addictions and sultry benedictions.
MIDI saxophones and an ex-girlfriend on the telephone
directing me to find my home, to rebuild the comb, to banish the bartender and the Reverend ******.

Alamo idiot stand and a neon Jesus
waving newcomers into the whitewashed port town known as "Cuba North".
At the Caged Gorilla, Linda, the waitress,
laughs through yellowed teeth, while my bloodshot eyes crawl up her red gums.
Binge'd and my brain keeps parallel with the ceiling fan
while a plain clothes cop tries to give me the reprimand for nostalgic mischiefs.
Handcuffed and looking for that old fiend, Freedom,
while Miranda spews on the back of my skull, slides down my shoulders, dots the cement.
Out the door and tourists with cameras looking for evil behind my irises,
but I can assure my handshakes feel the same, I'm front pew tame, and I blend with the parade.

Over the rims of her thin, steel glasses comes the power.
The confident no, she loves to deliver over and over.
I've an itch.
I've got an anger.
I've a second story window.
I've a bottom-shelf bottle.
Study, study,
my little scholar,
but remember:
every student has a holiday,
and every underdog has a heyday.

Six feet up and standing,
I'm falling apart in his shadow,
Trying not to get my blood,
Mixed up in her bones,
She's screaming,
And the rest of the world wants an ambulance,
Or maybe we should give her what she wants,
So her shoes fly off,
Mine slow me down,
And I have to stop and turn back,
Because he's grounded,
And he needs me when I'm breaking apart,
But we pretend we have time,
(I want to waste it,)
We're selfish,
(I want to help her,)
We're dying too,
So we put ourselves together,
And he feels like glue,
But it's over and he holds my hand,
Til we're back in the chaos,
And it feels like I've been here,
Cause I always am,
And the screams want to morph in my ears,
And be different colours,
Hers are black,
And I have to run again,
(I can't do this again,)
But they need me,
(It's too much,)
He pulls me back,
And I can't see,
So I just follow the circles,

Over and over and BAM!

I played my part,
And I know it,
It looks like I'm praying,
But there's no idol,
And I want to tear it up,
But I hide it instead,
So I don't wonder if he sees them,
Because her eyes look like mine,
And she's taking the words right out of my head,
And I've lost,
(I deserve this,)
But he doesn't let go,
(I'm not enough,)
And he's still holding me,
Even though she's spilled my secrets,
And I can't force them back down her throat,
And I want to unhinge my insides,
Because I promised they were clean,
And I filled them with dirt,
But I'm sorry now.

A pair of eagles connect in the air
in that mysterious way that birds can.
Rats that gave up the sea and the sinking
ships for a soaring finger
with which to scratch the night sky until
the skin breaks.

Here, they retain that tenuous extension,
a spark of the sin,
that ****** aristocracy that exalts in
making masks out of vellum day
and glowering down from box seats at
the beginning of the descent.

Whether in the sea or fallen as a tree,
the sky is memory.

No one bites me quite the way you do
or locks me with that tenderness of fright.
I cannot see the way we fit as one
But I must fall with you to rocky white.