BURNING WOMAN/WALKING WOUNDED

[onesilverhand]

BURNING WOMAN/WALKING WOUNDED
Inspired by "X" number of beers
and unmeasured quantities of dysfunctional torment

Ta'night I set an' listen t' ol' Beck an' drenk a bottle a Busch or threee...

HIS eyes on m' mind: laser sharp like a' infrared night light...
somehow comfortin' an interrorgatin' sigh-maul-tenuously.

Didja ever know a man whose very presence was like a shove?
(Could this be "Love"?) nonono...
I wear this burn scar over m'lef' breast... close t' th' temprit zone...
as a remainder not t' be a FOOL agin...
weasel cum... weasel go...

He's got thet a-lumi-nam colored hair spillin' down 'is bony shoulder blades...
steal blue eyes... like ice sculptures cut wi' razor tears...
His 'motional pain is programmed prison cell DNA...
soul sick cancer gone t' th' core...

SHE thinks SHE can give 'im kindred therapy...
thet bitchcunt heissa fuckin' now...
she don know... like ME... he's not for savin'...
like a jelly donut stuck inna micro-caustic-wave oven...

FUCKYOUMAN
fuck you VERY much... an'cum agin...

I jes' wish this ol' brew'd kick in...
blurrr th' thoughta THEES EYES
on m'body hot like candle flames...
I couldn't hold onto 'im...
he bein' like th' dry wind thet sears th' sweat off m' skin in the desert...
no relief for either of us...
we jus' mine-fuck each other with guarded jail-lousy...
strippin' our souls bare boned an' bleached for th' carryin' crows
to haw haw away...
Caw caw me sometime...
we'll hava drenk...

I'm feelin' like a melt down
an' you tellin' me yer soul's afire...
an' I can't walk away...

I jes burn