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Eric Lindley
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1
The kill-christ kid with wooden lungs and sweetheart lips, talcum tongue,
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Came crawling up, to suck my thumb,
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To suck the vodka off my pants.
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I opened up, to let it breathe,
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To seep the gases through my teeth,
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And wiped up supper from my sleeve.
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The moment finally passes.
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My heart, my heart is broken,
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Swinging unchecked, rusty hoses,
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Firing sweat, smoke blood, wet roses,
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Vomit, chocolate, and heat.
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The curly, brown-blonde, oily kid,
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Bounced up to crack her melon head,
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She laughed, rolling one eye, and said,
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"There's nothing left here for me,"
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So I drink quickly, tuck my teeth,
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Behind my dick-suck lips and leave,
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Her loving me,
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But quietly,
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There's nothing left here for me.
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My heart, my heart is broken,
22
Swinging unchecked, rusty hoses,
23
Firing sweat, smoke blood, wet roses,
24
Vomit, chocolate, and heat.
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