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But let's talk about you for a minute with the vomit in your gullet |
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From a half bottle of vodka that we'd stolen from the optic |
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In the backseat in your car because it wasn't safe to start it"You're far too ****ed to drive", were the words that you imparted |
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And the water undressed the clothes |
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I tied to the contours of your body |
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And the dead grass stuck to fibers from us rolling in the lay-by |
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We're passed to dog hair blankets that protected the backseat covers |
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And a crucifix was hung from rear view mirror by your mother |
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I'm leaving my body to science, not medical but physics |
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Drag my corpse to the airport and lay me limp on the left wing |
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Drop me at the highest point |
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And trace a line around the dent |
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I leave in the ground |
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That'll be the initial of the one you'll marry, now |
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I'm not around |
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I flew for seven hours, the sky didn't want it back |
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I wake from sleep, my head in your shoulder, wet against the window |
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The frost had formed and melted, soaked me right through to my collarbone |
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If you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at 45 |
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But with a lover at your side after a full and happy life |
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Is this something that would interest you? |
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Would this interest you at all? |
