To Me And No One All

This isn't for you and your radio beamed rust,
the shades of gray that colored permanence here,
you're perfect hills rolling green and saturated skies.

none of this is for you;
not a pencil tongue would sketch inside your mouth
even if you'd let it...

an anthology,
a closed embrace that watches stock markets fall,
mirrors for globes and prisms for prison
prissy hearts trussed up in tuxedos
and driven off cliffs.

take these toilets drunk on television,
hide yourself away into the robes of clever kings,
presidents that meander in the monarchy
and bibles of bibilical proportions.

drag your body
kicking and screaming
out of the coffin you call bed
and look yourself square in the eye

it's more than i can do to you.
it's more than i'd want to.

your silly disdain and your pithy refrain
caught into stupid innocence,
shut up for a moment and you'll hear us laugh...

but this isn't for you,
it's not a flea eaten moth bitten serenade,
it isnt instructions for a caged life
or your piano fingers dancing on in the night...

no.

this is an end fit for a king on a dying thrown,
ash that burns when art dies,
its the architecture of dreams tangled in astral pockets
time that burns at both ends and falls to your feet...
bleeding

these are the slums in technicolor
painted on padded walls
dancing on an eyelash...
the dirty little words you were to afraid to live,
they are of attraction
and howl like broken vultures in orgasm...

of magnolias and mandolins
of little boy pot pies and gasoline breasts.
the thoughts you keep hidden and faceless chores

your exceptions to being
that made me paint myself invisible.

bleed bleed into the glass night
with your infantile longings
for i live today
and youre never now,
the scars in the sky remind me of you...
uprooted
dancing in the treehouse in hell...

so tonight ill die on empty stomachs
rotting away at the thought of you -
the reasons youre gone
and hoping that you'll never look.