The heart

I was able to count

Around the chair

I used to spin from

Here to there

Never reaching

Where I found

The touch with

The one good eye

Mighty Benji

Had a guitar he used

To murder tunes he

Never could have wrote

And I pondered on the sheet

Scratching i felt all I needed

Was a whiskey and a gun

For the shooting of the instrument

Not the player for one is a sin

And one just a plain old crime

And so long Marianne creeped

Into my heart where the tears

Flow crimson from the pain

And I wished she held on like

A crucifix but they knew they

Would laugh when the letters

Had no distance to fly

Or scream or cry about it all

And I could do a puzzle

While others made love

To the night sky

And I could work

Relishing the blood

Tracing the words of

My heart along my palm

And I could read a book

To live within the tale

And forget the pound

Pound pound of the day

Delighting in the night

And the knife could have

Torn but it hadn’t the soul

And I could raise the metal

Hearing its crash upon

My skin cutting my need

Through the scars on my back

And I could love so much

More than the songs can tell

And when my skin felt skin

It moved beyond the touch

Reverberating in the dark

Where the only light

Is the only one we love

Where the crack is thin

But just enough to allow

All we need to feel

The shadow of the girl

Whose name you see

In the eyes reflected

When all you have

Is yourself alone