i sleep on my back cause it's good for the spine
and coffin rehersal
i know a psychic who reads her own palms
and the findings are personal
she keeps her fists shut tight and she sleeps on her side,
well maybe she knows something i don't know

but i am still alive and loving
wide eyed in my time
not a mummy shrinking in its cloths
your cat clawed out my eyes while i's
distracted by your smile
and now my sockets sit like empty catcher's mitts waiting
and you ask me if there's anybody else that i'm dating



what's your painted pony is fading
walks like a snakeskin in high grass
and out to thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me
you count them blessings cause your net worth
oughta be less cream in your best dreams
but god put a song on my palm
that you can't read

i'm lucky to be under
this same sky that held
the exhale from your first breath
like a
i knew my tongue may stutter
but my gift heart screams clear and swells
to burst between your red lengths
of its own bone briden self

but i am still alive and loving
wide eyed in my time
not a mummy shinking in its cloths
there's a moth caught in my gut, groan
i tug at my groin like tides trying to
pull women towards them, i can't ignore them
and when we say your name our tongues catch flame
and you wonder why we ain't got nothing to say

what's your painted pony is fading
walks like a snakeskin in high grass
and out to thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me
you count them blessings cause your net worth
oughta be less cream in your best dreams
but god put a song on my palm
that you can't read
i'll be embalmed with it long before you'll see

/boneweaver