Of that song I could smell with my eyes

Choking to death

With the grace

Of a feral cat.

Give me a pat

On the face.

\

The surplus of days

And nights

That blend into one

Grey, monotone mess.

Please give me a gun.

\

The dust and the lust

Last 'til they are no more

'Cause all those things pass.

But your smacks and your slaps

Swell, life.

\

And I'd rather dive

Into oceans of grace,

I would graze on the words

Of that song I could smell

With my eyes.