1/4/11

Insides Out

you can find me in dark corners
praying for blood in doorways
ive got a self medicated nametag
as i knock for your room full of dead babies
and stink of sex
and sorries
you say your one dollar short of taking over the world
i say were poor as i stir the leftover tunafish on the floor
we know ive been walking backwards
in the animal swamp city slump
i go back to my mothers
dance for innocence
to end up riding the railroads up my arm
ive lost my looks
and my words wobble
the police are here to tell me
to turn inside out
i dont listen
so i cook a cure outside the kitchen
im hearing Bob Dylan
the first poem i ever wrote
im back to the basics
me vs. me
its alright ma, im only dying
countless
ive tried, im trying, im tied
it was early when she died
one day they might say

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