In vineyards tired of time
I've caught myself packed in bushels and barrels waiting for consumption,
waiting for aging.
Tandem tire tracks drag the dirt of my life through the fields
and in summer there's somethings bitter
like blood on my taste buds,
and I'm wondering just how far I've bitten through myself.
Acid grapes encircle me now.
Alone here I remain,
sans the feelings,
sans the pain.

Becuase underneath this zinfandel
is a chardonnay and underneath that, I'm purely Merlot.
Wallowing in my vineyards of desire where murder lies and so do I,
because champagne dreams really do grow on trees, but the weight of your sins makes my arms too heavy to reach them,
or at least that's my excuse.

The putrid weight of your body flapping down the sidewalks of my mind,
oozing in and out of cement cracks, only to break your mothers back.
Only to smile wildly in the face of opposition with your hands in the shape of guns in your pockets knowing no one was packing.

In shadow alleys everyone's king until proven otherwise
and tonight's not your night, you've spent too many sun-ups drinking nightmares down the hatch.

Meanwhile the t.v.'s bleeding dreams that you couldn't understand
and this monotony of a strut you're using to attract is repelling and repulsive, like the devils haircut.
SOAK YOURSELF in the static of snow but don't
think just because you make angels, that they have your back.

'Cause summers gonna come, its gotta take away this mess
that you call living,
like the other sodered end of a school girl crush
drinking melted plastic and huffing the sap from between the golden legs of our mother.

Who knows where you'll end up,
what milk company will plaster your face on their cartons with hopes that some lonely soul will remember you.
Long live your reverie,
Never forgotten paper route.
Some suspicion around this one,
same face we saw on the road, dead Indian tribe revenge, I hate you from the back of my throat, cause that's where I keep my secrets.

And although I could spit the nails into your coffin
and bury you alive, instead I'll tell everyone in your obituary, exactly what to send in lieu of flowers.

02/06/2009

Author's Note: Thanks to Nanette Bellman for the collaboration.

Posted on 02/07/2009
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