all these people drinking lover's spit.
fork in hand, i cut off pieces of your body and feed them to the lion of lovers, roses growing in his teeth. as my mother and brother argue on a far-off plane - the city street at night - i hear broken echoes of a scene i tried but failed to forget: you sitting at a coal-black piano your hair in loose, limp curls, pounding away, drinking lover's spit. your eyeswere like balloons in the moon - light and as we smoked our first cigarettes together i felt the ashes of my former existence burn in air, flicked to the floor by Time's forefinger. can you retain the emptiness of this atmosphere, or will we have to fill it with the skin of our hands, bare as bones? and i wonder what sound your trumpet will make come Judgement Day.
tell me, do you think these same things? are you also drowning in lover's spit? am i?
like an airplane stuck on the ground, i have nowhere to go. like a moon without a tide, i don't now where my feet will take me.
so i stick my head in the dragon's mouth, set myself on fire, and figure things wil be better the second time around.
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