Don’t act like you don’t know me.
I eye you,
and for what you’ve done you owe me
to just be fucking normal for once.
Don’t stare at me like that,
like you’re so San Francisco.
I know where you’ve been,
and there’s no gas lamps or disco
3 miles into shoveling snow –
There’s no… yah there was no.
Yah, you know,
about pulling back the throttle –
the last drop coursing down the bottle –
about the time the lights went out;
the doors shut, closed.
we discovered new outs in our fucked up pose.
dreaming just to live, dying just to love, or know how.
I’m learning but you’re still something I could live without.
like you now;
same as before,
just a longer neck, a sexier sway.
you found a way to sell what you couldn’t give away.
because the poor know enough about being needy;
but the rich know too much about being greedy
and so you stain the weakness in the glass
of the promises they make,
counting every crack as you watch their futures break –
promises they never should’ve made.
So I eye
the casual approach in your disguise.
I’ll not be fooled by your social glue,
or give in to what held my glass for you.
you dilute the pain,
but you’re just a sleepless night.
you don’t comfort me…
unless I’ve already given up the fight.
toast to the spirit of a seasonal night
the sparkle in the smile of an otherwise
practical light. ~