Your dolls grin in my summer
melted silver-plastic sins
and I heard a crow caw
all for my belated needs
I never tended to life
and I find myself six feet deep
My pall bearer lover needs
me and my simple sweet soul
All for you I oiled your soul machine
and I am cosmic mechanic heart
I have the skills to fix your devour-mouth
My pall bearer sees crow caw
and I’m still six feet under…
Under your high heel career
and Versace style psychotic need
And who (you) bury my bleeding
I keep your longest kiss under
— neath my broken bone cap knees
And nothing hurts like your mouth
:: 07-16-2014 ::
