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EATMEAlice
11 Apr 2005
i know the man with the slow right hand
sweeping the bow across four broken dreams
all the time, haunting melodies play
from four lucid strings
but i haven't figured out his device yet
to keep them steady and oh so golden
because his coat tails and top hat look
so down trodden
he told me his story through
hollowed out eyes and tear stained cheeks
about how in this basement he got his name
and scarred face which holds up a smile so bleak
to an after-thought as thin as stale mints
left between semen stained sheets
a delusional violinist, perhaps.
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