The lonely boy on the box

Tit for tat, the front is back

Assassin ate        I am a coffin in a doorway

Your fingers are sticky with catnip, lucky

It’s lucky to be lucky – do you feel, lucky?

                    I am a baa baa

                                     In the sheep pen on a black hill

The black sky and the black arms of God

                                    seal windows in the sky

You forgive me/forgive me                            I am a dust cloud

A mouthful of dreams

                                    waking up in the wonderland

                                                                     I cut open a mosquito

A music box of diamond-encrusted sound

I put a knife into a keyboard

It bled thick black notes, and the whitest tears

                           Passive – aggressive – the lonely boy on the box

What’s in the box?

                           It’s only half of her

                           The other half is in the sink, or something

You lost your way home on the way to Tipperary

                              Singing all the white girls are turning red

                              Singing all the black girls are black tanks