Mumbled lyrics, anatomically correct, signaling me out for bum behavior. I call home, my heart pounding like a fat, unopened wallet. Whatever I lip-synch, the other end hangs up, and then only the faint buying sound of people in the background affording milk.
Axed utilities, strange digestive complaints, preposterous sex - the space I always dreamed of..? Before I know it, my Les Paul leans inside a pawnshop window. I stand in the street and watch it not anything, its price-tag turned inwards.
Voices behind me, »misstatements« issued by immunologists, words thrown over a lampshade beginning to smoke. When I think of all the sacrifices she had to make just to keep me feeling guilty! I close my eyes, hear sirens stockpiling missiles, tanks. By me I mean the one I get from my father.
Shadows moving behind stained glass windows, shadows coming up for air, the clock confessing its lifelong grouse with me and all I fell for. Imagine hiding all your feelings in a cracked skull! The moon staring from the hospital tile, shot kidneys, shot liver, everything singing in drunken concert:
What I pay Unless I owe
Let no one be mistaken;
But if I'm wrong I told you so:
No God goes unforsaken.
Father, forgive your only son, for no one can undo all you've left undone.
