poor pariah marlborough child
you've been caught in the cold
with your chemicals
long stares lonely sad sob story
your pockets all have holes
they lose all your notes
the one that got away
hasn't come any closer to not getting away
the words you wished you'd used
are someone else's servants
someone else's cure
mad marauders calico kid
you've stripped the skeleton
for the highest bid

train's on schedule porcelain's clean
and this must be a dream
or an extreme improbability
the moment things were good
is when you knew it was done, it would go no further
a strong wind pushed you back
down the escalators over sunday shoppers
people seem to believe
in illogical outcomes and impracticalities
the words you wished you'd used
they are not your asylum they were not for you

going straight down
going straight down