if you're looking for a blanket, sweetie, i'm sorry i'm no sort of fabric. but if you need a tailor- take your torn shirt and stumble up my stairs...

so this piece is not one of my favorites...but a lot of people seemed to like it....let me know what you think

bloodshot eyes-
(you're pink around the rims again
claiming you know
the difference between a smile and a breakdown,
a tree and a phone pole,
my leg and yours)
i could count the times you've stumbled in
if you'd stop singing "sweet chariot" to me.

shaking limbs-
(your friends with asterisks
will all self-destruct in time)
they know what you have to offer
on saturday night, and monday and wednesday
and thursday for that matter.
they see you for all those qualities
that morph you into one of your hated cliches.

swirling stomach-
(this world has maimed you)
the man you can be without your crutch
doesn't cough and feel steps give way.
he laughs and cries and dreams.
i'd take your poison and drain your blood
until it trickled back into your cheeks
if i thought it's actually matter.
until then, raise your glass, make a toast,
and wake up holding your head.