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My body bangs and twitches, this brown liquor wets my tounge. |
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My fingers find the stitches, firmly back and forth they run. |
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I need no other memory of the bits of me I left |
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When all this lethal drinking is to hopefully forget about you. |
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I might as well admit it, like I even have a choice. |
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The crew have killed the captain, but they still can hear his voice. |
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A shadow on the water, a whisper in the wind. |
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On long walks with my daughter, who is lately full of questions about you. |
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About you. |
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When Job asked you the question, you responded "Who are you |
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To challenge your creator?" Well if that one part is true |
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It makes you sound defensive, like you had not thought it through |
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enough to have an answer, or you might have bit off more than you could chew. |
