Gracious nonsense, guilty conscience
Carl Jung is not your friend.
I will cut down a million trees for you
so that this story never ends.
Fire-walker, favorite stalker
teach me to play dead,
idolize my tits and ass and get inside my head.
Broken mirror, nothing clearer, something left unsaid
the bleeding Heart in my back pocket
should Convince you I'm not dead.
City-slicker, window-licker
hold my flashlight while it flickers
wicker in the attic, I'm attached to you instead.
Rocky soil, summer toil, a fatal flaw, character foil
You were in a dream I had, but never in my bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment