Testo Eighteen Inches

face down on the ground

stormclouds lie in white snowpiles all around

(i don't know)

i don't know if i can make it through
one more winter in this town



voted worst in show the last two years

got a refill on my tears

(another bottle)

another bottle of foam yellowed clear

old man twitching on the train

reminds us of mortalitly
the snow everywhere reminds us of the rain



and my burned and brittle skin

cracked and blistered in the wind

is testament to repetition

as the impossible happens again



so, what's your new years revolution

take off those ten unsightly pounds



the snow is piling higher

and your face is growing closer to the ground



raising your glass at the office party

or photocopying your secretary's ass

is no less pathetic

than our self righteously self important tasks



of barfing rhetoric on shiny table tops

as our collars and turtlenecks choke us right there

in the coffee shops

winter will not wait for you

ironically, your worst fear has come true

pontification means nothing



when i woke up

and looked around

i saw my dreams had melted into dirty puddles

on the ground

(2x)