Songs and Lyrics
Essays from the vein
R J Puffin
22 Apr 2004
me the stuffed red thing
in front of me.
18 hours without food without water
with only the pulsing
from temples and the cavern inside.
Ink stained hands and dirty finger nails
are my last hope
my door, my window
out and away.
I don't care if you don't care or
if you do
don't tell me
You're not the one who matters.
Burnt it down, Remade it in my own image.