buckethead - We Cannot Guarantee Bodily Harm
5. We Cannot Guarantee Bodily Harm
there are chapters here
the leaves curl gold, dry and brittle in the falling afternoon autumn, and that girl must be dreaming again. a thin shine shields her eyes from reality and the cars drift past, searching for their homes.
where do you keep your dreams, little girl?
perhaps in all that extra space
cushioning your bones from breaking against your
rubbery skin; where do you keep your
secrets? are there pockets in your flesh,
the flesh which is too big, too awkward
too rigid--how small are you, shrinking and
melting away from the world?
--did you fall for my tragedy? how did
one meld into the other, the
white floor boards on the ceiling, how did she
I lay awake at night, listening to the
raccoon family scuttling up in the attic
listening, straining for your
pensive heartbeat, did you love
my tragedy?
did that girl, not me, not her, not
the past but some other life long ago,
weeping of innocence--did she
dream of you?
there are chapters here
the leaves curl gold, dry and brittle in the falling afternoon autumn, and that girl must be dreaming again. a thin shine shields her eyes from reality and the cars drift past, searching for their homes.
where do you keep your dreams, little girl?
perhaps in all that extra space
cushioning your bones from breaking against your
rubbery skin; where do you keep your
secrets? are there pockets in your flesh,
the flesh which is too big, too awkward
too rigid--how small are you, shrinking and
melting away from the world?
--did you fall for my tragedy? how did
one meld into the other, the
white floor boards on the ceiling, how did she
I lay awake at night, listening to the
raccoon family scuttling up in the attic
listening, straining for your
pensive heartbeat, did you love
my tragedy?
did that girl, not me, not her, not
the past but some other life long ago,
weeping of innocence--did she
dream of you?