Talking To The Empty

Inside Of My Head

Just a coupla more grains’ll do it.

I’ll be well preserved

In a hospital bed

Staring at a pourous

Hypo-allergenic ceiling

Babbling baby gurgle

As machines beep lifelines

Next to my sterile bed

Of straps and buckles.

Internal injuries to some vital organs

Mixed with sufficiently alarming brain damage.

Physical consequences including

Dehydration

Scabs on my veins

A knot on my head

That I have no idea

How it got there.

The angel and the demon

Spar on top of my boney shoulders.

Just a coupla more jumpstarts

Will get my intestines

So knotted up

That I’ll hafta reach

A few fingers up there

Just to pull that shit out.

Just a few more pin pricks

And I’ll be working

The freak show

Or hustling in Limbo Land.

Triple X

With a hex.

I’m out on the ledge.

My head’s in the oven.

I work the needle beneath my skin

And send the poison home.