sitting on a rocking chair
watching raindrops
falling in a suicidal slide
down the window pane
Roberta Flack is trapped
or so it seems
inside an old AM radio
I could let her out
but then I would be alone
I look at the clock, again
then at a butcher knife
waiting for the perfect time
to cut off one of my ears
like Vincent
or to shave my eyebrows and nipples
like Geldof
But then I light another cigarette
and I wonder if that would change a thing
if it would distract me from the pain
as I hide under an umbrella
from melancholy bombs
As the poison of love
travels through my vessels
a distorted vision of my present
continues to haunt my future
like a ghost
as I face the daunting task
of living day
after day
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