| One hand on this wily comet,
|
| Take a drink just to give me some weight,
|
| Some uber-man I’d make,
|
| I’m barely a vapor
|
| They shone a chlorine light on,
|
| A host of individual sins,
|
| Let’s carve my aging face off,
|
| Fetch us a knife,
|
| Start with my eyes,
|
| Down so the lines,
|
| Form a grimacing smile,
|
| Close your eyes to corral a virtue,
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| Is this fooling anyone else?
|
| Never worked so long and hard,
|
| To cement a failure,
|
| We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
|
| But the lonely is such delicate things,
|
| The wind from a wasp could blow them,
|
| Into the sea,
|
| With stones on their feet,
|
| Lost to the light and the loving we need,
|
| Still to come,
|
| The worst part and you know it,
|
| There is a numbness,
|
| In your heart and it’s growing,
|
| With burnt sage and a forest of bygones,
|
| I click my heels,
|
| Get the devils in line,
|
| A list of things I could lay the blame on,
|
| Might give me a way out,
|
| But with each turn,
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| It’s this front and center,
|
| Like a dart stuck square in your eye,
|
| Every post you can hitch your faith on,
|
| Is a pie in the sky,
|
| Chock full of lies,
|
| A tool we devise,
|
| To make sinking stones fly,
|
| And still to come,
|
| The worst part and you know it,
|
| There is a numbness,
|
| In your heart and it’s growing. |