with a bed-side manner
that could slip through cracks
we split hairs over current affairs

burried somewhere in your eyes;
confessions
suede armor between the lines

in the corner of my mind
i am courting disaster
the tip of my tounge is eager

it occurs to me
that angels on tv
have been formatted to fit my screen

hendrix awaits in castles of sand
while lennon is quiet and numb
dylan is ranting
drake is sleepless
like you: wilson is waiting to die

though they play for now
by your bed
till the hospital lights decline

the roof of my mouth misses the cold
the scales on my palm grow thin

i catch

a

midnight bus

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