A foot in the Grave.

1/25/11

 I've had a foot in a grave and a fish on a wire
 And when I pulled both out I was none the wiser
 My eyes are all sore and I've become quite the bore
 And my back and my spine are circlin'

 I'd drop everything to be a fish on your hook
 And to roll around in your early grave
 Because the look on your face is still the one you gave
 When we first met, and you were so shy

But my thoughts swing like they're on a string
And I always wonder what I might be missing
And my soul wanders off into wide blue fields
And it's hard to keep it tethered to you and your coffin

I live in a place all gray and green
The lifeless souls are like nothing I've seen
And the temptation to taste different types of lives 
Keeps me wandering further down a rabbit trail

Sometimes I think it'd be so nice to live a simple kind of life on a path that's beaten black and blue; I'd beat that path to death with you.

I want to be an old tree with you, when my mind is sad and soft I want to speak to you
 But sometimes I just want your lips to grow over with vines.

Coffee Table

    She held his face in her hands like it was the whole world. But he didn’t mean anything to her. The other girl was pouring a drink in his mouth while she cradled his head. They took care of him as if he were some vulnerable and sick king. They nursed him through his drunken night and left him alone and sleeping by morning. 

    She remembers going outside, crumpling by the white fence and just screaming out crying in heaving, soggy sobs. The white fence and the bright sun made her imagine that she must be in high contrast and that her face would be like a yawning space of flesh color with great black holes heaving and gasping in the sun, like an enraged and bleached tadpole of a person.

    Because, you put a plate down on your coffee table and then you light a candle so you don’t waste matches every time you take a hit and then it’s burning so long that a weak spot forms in the side and the dam breaks and the wax pours down onto the table and then you start playing with the wax while watching tv and you’ve thrown the burnt match and pieces of wax onto the plate and then the plate becomes just for wax and burnt ends of things and then you realize you live in a house with two plates and that later you’re going to be cradling a man’s head as if it were the whole world and you sink and you go outside and cry with a wide open mouth like a gasping tadpole in the sun.