want to be more than a dramatic silhouette spilling gasoline on my paper shoes, to waste away playing kicking the can in an uphill landscape full of loose connections, a landscape prone to open flame. 
I received a candle like a baton on my birthday, my birthplace- basement floor full of bone saws and solutions to find some answers, causes of death well, well they all died in their sleep. Is that what i'm here for? a short visit? then to be loaded in and shipped down four flights of stairs, and dolled up like some saint, so that at my wake everyone will have something nice to look at. while really i'm stuck shining the devils bowling ball with spit cleared from my  face so i can be cloned ten times and [bad word] out for eternity. I've been doing a lot of thinking about life and death and which one i'm better suited for. obsessing over skulls and crossbones. fantasizing over which body of water my ashes will sink faster in. And every one of those thoughts is another gallon in my tank on my short ride to [bad word] with no rest stops or shoulders.  
I want to be more than a dramatic silhouette spilling gasoline on my paper shoes, to waste away playing kicking the can in an uphill landscape full of loose connections, a landscape prone to open flame. 
I received a candle like a baton on my birthday. [bad word] to share some light, but instead i hung it upside down until hot wax melted out my eyes. blind as a bat but i know in my heart my eyes are on the inside. And none of you can see underneath all of this because i tied my insides to a ceiling fan and covered up the windows with what came undone. and if i don't find a rag and some courage i'm gonna be stuck in the dark for the rest of my life. i want you [bad word] burst through these walls but i don't expect you to fill up the trenches i dug to keep you out. so hear i sit with a burnt out candle and a box full of wet matches. but there's hope.