SLAM!

 (This message was edited by totalloser on 08-02-05 @ 3:54 pm EDT)

 (This message was edited by totalloser on 08-01-05 @ 5:23 pm EDT)

Ernest

I sleep with you, the god
of drunken dialogue, burrowing
my face inside your long white
whiskers and drinking in the scent
of stale beer. Your scabbed lips
caress my tangled hair, murmuring
fictional love and devotion,
dancing lightly over my breasts.
The birds in the rafters are singing,
they're singing our song...

You run ink-stained fingers through
my hair and I can feel them pressing
against my soul. And the sparrows sing
and the bells toll, a symphony of sandpaper
kisses and slammed doors and squandered youth and

oh, I know when the sun sets the Garden of Eden
will swallow you into its depths, once again.
You will be held captive and write pretty words
for the tyrants who tighten your chains...
But someday, you will break through their
bondage and run, across the river and into
the trees, and you will find me. I
will be waiting, always waiting

for there may be Men without Women,
but I will never be a Woman without
you.

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