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Lemmeouttahere
I’m the inside of the word;
the what-and-where you cannot see…
The spiral in your morning roll;
buried sticky sweet.
I’m the aftertaste you hate to swallow,
hate to stomach me…
Try too hard to find my faults,
spit bitter animosity.
I’m the black sheep in the city crowd,
the underneath the party scene;
someone’s lost their contact lens,
I swear it wasn’t me.
I’m mixed-up-in a mess, and you drag me where you can.
“Where’d they put my eyes, man?”
“Down your throat,” she screamed.
Plastic bag around my head, twisty-tie my neck – you might as well.
Aye, it’s an escape, but I can’t get away.
As fast as I can, but I can’t get away.
Their lips keep moving, their mouths keep bruising;
the things they try to confuse me.
But I can’t hear them; I’m lost inside a song.
After dinner arguments, I hum it all night long.
Check the dog tied to the tree,
snapping jaws, barking at me.
Collar’s tight – I’m going to cut him loose…
And if he bites I wouldn’t care,
because it wouldn’t hurt as much as you.
I’m in the inside of the word;
the how-and-why you can not reach…
The in between the dotted-lines;
the squeezed blood of the beet.
Posted by Invisibleye in: Poetry 
23 August, 2008 