In the garden of delight
I was digging up a weed
I was feeling like a rose
clenched between your rows of teeth.
You were chewing off my thorns.
You were slathering the stem.
You were sharpening your horns.
You were shutting out my friends.
But when I found you later
with a suitcase in your mouth,
you said "save me",
I said "save yourself."
Under the staircase churns
all the hatefulness we hide.
You said "take me,"
I said "die."
So when the day grows dim,
point the flashlight to your mind.
I'm the friend you can't find.
In the valley of the eye,
I am frozen in the stare.
The clouds suspended, petrified,
like a nightgown on a nail.
All the color's been bled dry,
knocked off by the gavel's strike.
We are lucky if we lie to ourselves
in this greasy black and white.
But when that phone call comes,
usher out your surprise witness.
Make your argument for mental illness.
Is it a glove that fits,
or are the hands too big with blisters?
Where's the swollen corpse in the cistern?
But when by pardon comes,
wipe the soil from my name.
I'm the friend you can't blame.
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