i wear an x-ray vest (or might as well),
with lithium spears in my brain
and copper marbles in my mouth
and dirty iron lungs
and tin twisted into my ratty hair
and steel eyes, but not pretty ones,
and shackled ankles
and nine inch nails in my wrists
with barnacl'd anchors in my pockets
and an aluminum outlook anniversary
and some sort of heavy fucking backpack:
thankfully full of tools,
and a silver (and cold) soul--
with a rusty lining
(gonna break my rusty cage and run)
and a battery acid smile
and i weep iodine
(or something).
and so now all i wish for is a gin dream come true
or even a mineral water one
(or a funereal one)
or even a wet dream
or a pipe dream
or just a pipe
or just a ream.
the more you ignore me the closer i get?
you may see it like that,
but i've not seen that, yet.
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