Had one of those days when you want to try heroin, drunk
driving, some form of soft suicide. Sitting in silence and
staring at ceilings or peeling the paint off of things to confide.
Teach me to wiggle my ears like that, show me the scar that
you got when you fell off your bike. Ask me the questions you
never want answers to. We can re-write them however we
like. Stop the hardwood floor's lopsided grin. Leave the dirt
and dead flowers in a brown coffee. Let your hand melt a hole
in the frost. Peer out under a sky that looks just like a shirt I
lost. Maybe someday the lies we've led around will crawl
under our beds and sleep off the years.