bags of fat cleaver CLEAVER
KLEEV-ER
KLEVE-UR
CLEAVE YOUR
CLEAve, YOU're
CLEAVER
Rocking all night long, All night
CHUCK IT
Unlocked your jaw accidentally, popped it shut
Fall in the snow, my gloves change color in the cold
I leave footprints but the sun's gone down and I can't see them no more. Stupid snow.
I find this hard. I walk where I need to go. Sky's like some big disgusting wet blanket. Wet blanket that's sat out all night, and I am trapped underneath it. It's freezing and cold and grey and disgusting. Can't get it off! Just want get in an airplane and fly somewhere, even if it's just Utah. Just get the blanket off of me.
Squeezing wet drippings out of the sky, get it off. Frozen shoelaces, frozen fingers.
Half empty bottle of perfume at the Salvation Army, buried under National Geographics in a bin behind the shelf of plastic black unmarked videos.
Someone's life, someone's virginity, someone's laughter this tape took away, someone's tears it did cry, someone's nightmare, someone's love, someone's baby it made. They all burn in the end, the ashes are grey, the chemical smoke is acid. The perfume smells like sex, sexual. Someone's bad date in a bottle, someone's infatuation, someone's thrown into the bed in heaving sobs on a failed Friday night. Underneath the bottle are more magazines, and beyond that I have no clue. Maybe you.
Kick the blanket off as I get stuck, cleaver.
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