dead end.
11:44 pm / 01.08.04

the road ahead is black

the road behind is blacker

if you look out your kitchen window

and claim me as your daughter

i'll fly into your arms

and I'll tug at all your hair

and i'll sing a tune i wrote for you

that sounds very close to

the teddy bears' picnic.

the moon was round yesterday

the moon is round tonight

look into your disposal

and reach your hand inside

flip the switch

slit your wrist

fall in pain to the tile floor

crawl straight through the garage door.

hear it wistle on the wind?

hear it waft down this dead end?

fear it coming closer

fear it touching you

hazard lights blink

you stand at your kitchen sink

i sink into my chair in tears

you flip the switch


i scream.

so loudly that my singing is drown out

so loudly that you shudder at the sound.

so lonely now that you are gone

ground into nothing but a memory of the song.

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