Thursday, December 3, 2009

Autopsy

I can't
I'm out
no matter how hard I try
it's gone
I stand naked before you
unzip my chest completely open
like the swing doors of an autopsy
I offer you my heart
like a beggar begs for handouts
my heart, scarred and ran over
like a vet in life support
with the expression of a wrinkled pear

Come, join me
let's walk on the train tracks
holding hands on the way to the morgue
I want to see if you can recognize me
by something other than my twisted smile
Come, even if just out of pity
let's hitch a ride in the carpool hearst
to my stupid inspiration's funeral

Like a kid with empty pockets
like a drunk with out a bottle
the poetry musical box is broken
and the paint has already dried
look at the procession, in the distance
waving good bye