In that big house mixed with rooms we used to sleep in. Used to be together in.
You have a brother and I can’t remember where he came from.
On the old box tv with knobs and fuzzy faces.
Billie Jean plays on…
On that futon I lay across you.
I look you in the face and tell you I love you.
I know your mind is floating elsewhere.
Your brother joins and kisses me. His hands down my pants.
Still you do not notice.
Still you do not care.
The house is filled with cheap kids, punk rockers, old drunks.
They say they need me to get them liquor.
You say you want to come.
But the house turns dry and the heroin fades.
You say I am off the hook and to go away.
I place a glass lamp on your head and pour the water in.
I see you drowning.
I see you gasping.
I keep turning over the globe but the liquid consumes your face.
I yell I am sorry.
I am so sorry.
I love you.
Please don’t die.
I try to smash this glass prison.
I smash it over and over on the cement.
They say the man isnt real.
But my best friend is on my left.
I scream until I am gasping and I wake inside my bed.
I long always to save you, into the reaches of my head.