You always wanted me to fall in line

like a soldier does

and keep my mouth clean

but I was always saloon mouthed

and frequently kicked out

with bourbon on my tongue.

when I would return home all

hollowed out I would

lay down on lamps to see

myself spread thin on the walls.

I make a pretty wallpaper

don’t I dear?

I wanted our love to have the 

expiration date of the honey

in Alexander’s sarcophagus.

instead I got a free-fall head

to go along with my lack of 

a parachute.

this deal I made with the devil was a lie.

you won’t be here to whisk me to heaven.

or even to sleep.