Monday, November 3, 2008

burn your bridge/ the great flacid wretch?

There is a sound
like many rusted saw blades
conversing with bone
I don't know what to do
I don't know what to do
I'm comfortable here
in my nest that I made
of shattered plastic plates
and muddy shoe laces
It's home.
I don't know what to do
When i wake up
with dream puddles still wet
in my eyes
and i have to wash my face
and put it back on
and put it back on
the right way
Make sure my ears fit right
What if i feel like putting my face on
we all put on our faces straight
so awkward conversations
awkward interactions

What does she think of my face?
I hope my face said the right thing.
My fucking face is crooked. Fuck.

I think we should all
leave our faces at home one day
and just give each other
instead of words and looks
looks and words.
just hugs.
But in an ideal world
trainwrecks would be fun.

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