The Sticky Clay
In the city street lamps, flashing neon lights.
Waiting for a greyhound on a Tuesday,
The autumn air damp with tears of rain,
I feel you kiss me and then you’re gone again.
Just like some foreign particle that’s spewed out of your heart.
I’m just a passenger.
But just for now,
Hold me till my body breaks
Till it splinters into thousands of tiny pieces
Like the crushed glass inside a crystal ball.
I want to mold the cold clay of your bones
And dress myself in the soul that’s falling
Out of your skin.