YOU KNOW THE ONE ...

Pressed against the wall; looking pretty (framed by the hole)
It took so much effort - the missing bricks have it all
and now I am tired, like a dog
My life is mapped and rugged with crossed legs and folded arms
Expectant blue lines meander through a  midlifeC(h)ris(t)is
The full moon's fuck ups are always a good excuse
to want to die afterwards

We talk in smiles and masticated symbols
Maybe an occasional tongue:
slipped in
succulent
unnoticed
and all the while
Kravitz is thinking he's Hendrix again
in the background
Someone kill the Musak
I am trying, so very hard, to concentrate

Dead town,
Burn it down

Down to the ground,
No sound

Cover a new song tonight please
Rhythm is the dogs bollocks; strangle that lead
it's like nails on a fucking blackboard
We need more balls... not 20 minute solos
Vibrating our heartbeats and
Tottering our inappropriate footwear
in thick, glass tumblers; shaken
and faking some literary cocktail hour
(just 'cos there's a few mint leaves on the top of the ice)
but I'm wearing my jeans again
I'm THAT kinda chick
I'll rest in towny bars on stiletto benches
with my legs open and my feet on the chairs
I'm chewing on daisies to hide them
because I'm trying to think like a man
You can promote a 2-way conversation
but mostly they drop a "touche" and leave with a shrug

Watch it burn
in the heat
of my hatred

Like when we fuck and you look at the floor afterwards
heading for the coffee machine, because you're bleeding
and you lost the world for a while; it didn't exist just then
The oat cereal you made is filling me up
for now; I'm hungry again half an hour later
but I'll starve this time thanks
because I only sit at the table for a minute
just long enough to smoke

Maybe I'll stay longer
Long enough to write my story
and make a million or six
From the shirt on someone elses back
Just like you did
refreshing the page, over and over
Investing the tatters in anothers high interest life
to hammer the income home,
month after inflated year

What is all this?
I'm looking for meaning
and fighting to be heard
in places filled with saturated people
I spend my life talking to myself
then I write it all out
and assume that you are already...

           ... part
                     of
                        the
                             conversation**