The Dim Bulb Beat

The bruised half-moons holding up my eyes have quickly turned into blackened sand dollars.

I've fallen in love with a sun that has already set.

Mutating behind the bars, and the cars,

are you trying to shut off or are you trying to shut in?

Turn your eyes inside and dig the vacuum

because pretty soon we'll be able to cough blood on the moon.

My reluctant compulsion

for some liquid emulsion

has been painting with tea leaves inside my intestines.

While the slimy southern exposure

of a fun house with broken mirrors

creeps by me as silently as a locomotive.

Now I've fallen in love with a black hole of a man

and I am only a fox who spoils grapes.

How could anyone love a face with eyes set so far apart?

I understand I'm not the ugliest duckling in the pond,

But Im sick of dealing with dim bulbs and dull crayons.

Excuse me while I speak in tied tongues.