Kiss

Kiss

I am just what I started out to be,
Inside a fish stick.
Who is the masked man I feel creeping inside my skin all the ever and
Tuesdays,
The last of each month?

Maybe I should stop drinking coffee and smoking ten packs of death in
my tee shirt.

Db7 coupe in the drive-shaft of the wet dark criminal breath.
I am two steps from the headache of last time I broke the law.
I am censored and still yet rough edit.
Script changes and last minute character adjustments.

I look for padlocked chicken soup,
Sick-boy of downtown stare? am I hip yet?
Sitting here with a cup of? "Joe called me and said that if I drove to
the edge? why not just back up?"

Sometimes I creep in the darkness with the whispers and kittens,
My eyes feel like money in air and tulips in my pockets,
Words and death busy playing jokes on each other.

There are times when I feel like a scream is on my lip,
Fighting battle after battle to get out,
And somewhere between fish and fire,
It turns into a kiss.

If I close my eyes I can start to see?
Sandcastles.
I am in Lisbon and the sun mates my skin,
Pregnant with bliss on a postcard my smile may seem twisted,
Down.