(Untitled)
the man I met Monday lives beneath the house
I dream of buying one day
his fingers bleeding in his mouth
the pencils in his pockets stab him when he sits down
he refused to sell the lockets that she gave back with a frown
his glasses they are starry and his hands are often wet
he never says “I’m sorry” always just “I forget”
I dream of buying one day
his fingers bleeding in his mouth
the pencils in his pockets stab him when he sits down
he refused to sell the lockets that she gave back with a frown
his glasses they are starry and his hands are often wet
he never says “I’m sorry” always just “I forget”
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