your eyes are swimming pools of
cigarette ash and accusatory tones
dimebag lovers have stars crossed
you get cross, i am too crass for the back of someone’s hand
to meet my face for fear it might
melt children’s plastic toys
under a magnifying glass
when you wake up and you’re an ant
you thought you were made of star parts
but if they got engines
to take them to heaven
you got no oil no more
once you drove to a diner

and he told you he thought you were too soft
butter pad, dish in the sun
and someday you’d go to sleep on purpose
and i am saying you so
my mother does not know my best friend told me
he thought i was so good i’d end my life
we wrote down years on a napkin in my dream
and followed the plot til we realized it was dirt
in a box
with a decaying log in the middle
but that’s besides the point, the topography’s not the thing

i realize i am alone now for the first time in my life
because i am surrounded by silence
even when you are next to me on the couch
i am less afraid of the softness


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