IV

 

there aren't any pills left.
for one reason or another i swallowed them all.
the best part is when they look in my eyes
and all they see if my sober shadow fleeing.
they just fall for my promise.
faceless collection digital garden.
growing wires the clobber the vine.
into the womb they climb.
plugging into the unborn.

i've been writhing on the floor
at his feet,
(hours, minutes, days, what's the difference)
my dress half way undone.
begging for the touches in my dreams.
but all he can give me
is
goodbye.

i knew a boy once
that kept a map on his bedroom wall.
with red tacks in cities all over the country.
i asked him once what they meant.
he said every tack was for a girl he knew there,
just another potential lover.
incase he got lonely or bored
he's just pack up his blues collection and bail.
he wasn't one to leave a trail.

someday, i hope he realizes he only
needs a blank map.
(he's got these old roads memorized.)
one city. with one girl and her old tea cup
collection.

i'm waiting to be bought.
i'm dirt cheap.
take out that old wallet full of blood.