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Molly Byrne Apr 2017
I am afraid that the next thing I give
Will be the last thing I had left.
I don’t exactly have an inventory.
I haven’t checked in recently
To see how my stocks are doing.
I put my money on the wind
And the howling wolves
And the impossible way that two people’s bodies
Fit together sometimes.
I am afraid that I do not have enough left
That is just me,
That came from something that I am.
I worry that every time I open my eyes and ears
I breathe in other peoples’ lives
And other peoples’ stories
And now when I let something out
My stories and theirs get jumbled
Like the air in our dead end lungs.
And every kiss I give to you
Is a thousand words
That I can no longer say
And every wink is a painting that I won’t finish.
Every word I let go
Is another that I can’t have for myself.
I don’t want to be selfish
I want to be able to give it away,
But I have seen too many women that I loved
Give themselves to people
Who collected all of their kisses and words in greedy fists
And never gave anything back.

I want to keep the unloveable,
Untamable, inimitable part of me
Close and secret.
So that when you break my heart
I won’t have to limp away
Missing a leg,
Missing an exit strategy,
Trying to fill the hole
I dug.
Head and Shoulders, knees and toes

That's the way the story goes

Here is something no one knows

To lepers...it's important

It's the inventory song

You may think that this is wrong

Put me back where I belong

But, lepers need to do this

Count your digits 'fore you leave

It's a fact you must believe

They're not out for to deceive

They need to inventory

If they count and all is there

They face the world without a care

They lose their parts, but not their hair

Their day will be successful

Head and Shoulders, Knees and toes

That's the way the old song goes

I've got four fingers and six toes

I guess I'll put some gloves on

The inventory song is neat

It teaches them, they need two feet

Or they can't walk down the street

It really is important

Gripping things is kind of tough

When digits...you've not enough

You know your fingers' with your stuff

You'll go and find it later

So, if you think that  this is wrong

And you do not like this song

Put me back where I belong

I think this song's a service

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes

I've a friend with half a nose

Now you know what no one knows

Inventory is required.
.
HRTsOnFyR Sep 2015
Though phantoms may be howling at the edges of my mind
Ripping away gobs of flesh until my soul lies exposed
Rotting off my skull, hanging loose from my tired bones
Whilst the terrifying multitude of my unseen fear
Hath become like the vile, gnashing teeth of night's Reaper
As I bare witness to the demons rising and writhing
Within the silver pool of my own lean, haunted reflection
Yet I cannot turn away; Even in my darkest hour
I must summon the courage to stay; For this is my reckoning.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
If only I were a clerk
sent by some company
to inventory you.

I would be very
thorough.

Toes to nose,
thighs to eyes,
hips to lips,
north to south:

not one
delicious morsel
would I overlook.

Of course,

protocol would require me
to kiss, taste or touch
each lovely portion

for quality control.

Yes, I would be
painstakingly thorough
indeed.

That is a job
I could love.
   ~mce
Good work is hard to find these days...

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