The bruise at the base of my spine is butterfly shaped, dressed and downstairs.
My mother's eyes flinch away from a skinniness I'm oblivious to.
Lank-haired ; skin splotched with bruises like split wine.
Some few drunken strangers trying to lock their eyes into a body that's slowly disappearing, sitting-curled in on myself : at the center of this, there must be a sort of purity if I just work myself in a little deeper.
The bones that catch the cold and hold it must point somewhere.
Waking, snared in the limbs of someone I never see again - an unfamiliar voice trying to pin me down with sleep-fuzzed concern. He's slack.
Flesh bags round his waist and I'm repelled, I'd do anything not to have to touch.
Curling tighter around a hunger that cuts to the bone, trying to find the center that must be round here somewhere.
No Cigar Lyrics performed by Meanwhile, Back In Communist Russia... are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that No Cigar Lyrics performed by Meanwhile, Back In Communist Russia... is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD