a poem.
IS IT WRONG TO BE ALONE?
AND WHEN WILL YOU STOP BURNING BREAD?
STEVEN WAITS SILENTLY BY THE KITCHEN SINK
AS YOU SPIT BLOOD INTO A PINT GLASS
WATCHING THE RED BECOME BLACK
THIS IS A KIND OF LETTING GO.
AND IN THE LIGHT YOUR CHEEKS ARE WHITE
AND YOUR EARS ARE HARDLY VISIBLE.
IT'S DARK INSIDE AND OUTSIDE
SO WE'VE NOWHERE TO PUT OUR POEMS
NOWHERE TO PUT OUR LITTLE UNHAPPY POEMS.
ALL ABOUT HOW SAD WE ARE, AND HOW WE
NEVER SEEM TO MAKE SENSE OF ANYTHING.
I HAVE MADE SENSE OF MY UNHAPPINESS
I HAVE WRITTEN IT DOWN AND MADE IT LOGIC,
I WANT TO SEE YOU DEFY ME, IN YOUR RED SHOES.
EVERY NEW DAY IS AN ATOM BOMB.
AND WHEN WILL YOU STOP BURNING BREAD?
STEVEN WAITS SILENTLY BY THE KITCHEN SINK
AS YOU SPIT BLOOD INTO A PINT GLASS
WATCHING THE RED BECOME BLACK
THIS IS A KIND OF LETTING GO.
AND IN THE LIGHT YOUR CHEEKS ARE WHITE
AND YOUR EARS ARE HARDLY VISIBLE.
IT'S DARK INSIDE AND OUTSIDE
SO WE'VE NOWHERE TO PUT OUR POEMS
NOWHERE TO PUT OUR LITTLE UNHAPPY POEMS.
ALL ABOUT HOW SAD WE ARE, AND HOW WE
NEVER SEEM TO MAKE SENSE OF ANYTHING.
I HAVE MADE SENSE OF MY UNHAPPINESS
I HAVE WRITTEN IT DOWN AND MADE IT LOGIC,
I WANT TO SEE YOU DEFY ME, IN YOUR RED SHOES.
EVERY NEW DAY IS AN ATOM BOMB.