Art is dead,

a zombie rose from it's grave

in the catacombs

of wine and professional jealousy

only the shape was the same

but even with my better self

shouting in my ear

I fell in love with the circus

I fell in love with the chase

I made the zombie my lover

and the canvas my grave

I never stay too long in one place
in case I get stuck
in the quicksand that is my mind
and in the gutter of my heart

You never stay too long
In case you get trapped
by the hundreds of arms
with nooses for hands
that are attatched to every woman you meet

I never stay too long
the morning after sex
a cup of coffee and I'm gone
you put on the tv in the background, pick up a book
and text-message me about time and place
next week

I want to play
with your toy heart
I want to tear
the unbreakable toy apart
small part
not safe to swallow
stuck in your throat
I'll listen to you choke
stuck in your throat
you can't breathe
cut open your throat
I'll fake it real