A man should die gaunt

And not bloated and overdone

There should be new words hidden

In the shadows on his face

And like a wine glass in the perfect pitch, he breaks

We're being dumped into order out of buckets of sea salt

What was the first condiment?

But always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel

Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't

Flowers are how plants laugh

And not by joke or to ridicule

I never saw my parents

Try to make a thing like me

In time in the bathroom mirror

I learn to accept my body

I got jumped into living by a coven of midwives

Under a dracula-caped eclipse

Like cutting through watermelon meat with a wire

You shoot sick from the hip and never miss

All the things inside me I assume

Are doing what they need to be doing

And always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel

Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't

Always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel

Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't

Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under

Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under

Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under

Looks like a sky for something