Out the window,
That’s always where I am.
Mania of imagination leads to
Damnation, so the good book
Said.

I disobey. I act the tough guy.
I curl up into the bathtub
When nobody’s home and have
A big cry.

A big one.
The kind of cry where all your
Insides run out and chip your face,
And it pools in your lap,
And you lick it up
Like a dog.

Running always,
Like there’s no tomorrow.
Crashing down like my shoelaces
Are tied together
And I howl.

My spinal cord is a snake;
All this is a mistake.
I wait too long and linger
Like a drum,
Eager for some switch to slap me
Awake.

“Vixen.” they say.
“Rather eel like in embrace.”

You hear that?
That’s the door, swinging,
Banging on until daybreak.

“Something’s gotta give.” they say.
But, don’t think you can give
What you don’t got.