Sometimes this is all I want:

To run down E.Cross street
this time fall in line
step right over that black man with blue hands
coat soaked freezing rain puddle
and order my coffee with you
mindless anonymity
safe inside warm dim lights

But I can’t
can’t sit, sugar or sip
until ambulance lights somehow
beat the sound again

And I can’t
love you fuck you without ever missing
you, now wouldn’t that be nice
like every day’s a holiday

Tarantino and De Sade
have not beaten me down
I still feel it all

I still want to feel it all

Every goddamn bullet
ass fuck
finger prick
porcelain crack on skull

every splinter
like a triangle of glass
from broken picture frame
pulled slowly from the sole of my foot

Still got the will to open my own
goddamn mouth for a taste of this

I want to be able to taste it
bitter and all.