5/15/08

Box

No matter how much I wind my watch
this excuse for a life still goes on
I grasp for air
as I drown in an empty fishbowl
like a plastic bag on my head
or a rope on my neck

Life, like sand escaping from my fists
and darkness slowly crawls up on my bed
death soaks my bath towel
and dried up tears and scars
and bills and I fall on my own traps.
I dig my teeth in my lips
and my nails on my skin
please bring me a box
dig a hole deep enough
for me to never crawl up again.
Here, take my heart
take it to the dog pound
maybe someone will take it
or feed it to the pitbulls
or mop the church floor with it
or put it in a crash test dummy
and send it out to space
make a mask out of it
put it on your face
honestly, I don't care
it doesn't matter anymore.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You amaze me. You bring out so many emotions with your writing, Pablo. Speechless.