Fatalist Palmistry

i sleep on my back cause it's good for the spine

and coffin rehersal

i know a psychic who reads her own palms

and her findings are personal

she keeps her fists shut tight and she sleeps on her side,

well maybe she knows something i don't know

but i am still alive in love and

wide eyed in my time

not a mummy shrinking in its cloths

your cat clawed out my eyes while i's

distracted by your smile

and now my sockets sit like empty catcher's mitts waiting

and you ask me if there's anybody else that i'm dating

'anna and nathan'

anna, i'm patient

but your painted pony is fading

lost like a snakeskin in high grass

and out there thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me

you count them blessings cause your net worth

oughta be less cream in your best dreams

but god put a song on my palm

that you can't read

i'm lucky to be under

this same sky that held

the exhale from your first breath

like a ring on a pillow of clouds

by you my tongue may stutter

but my gift heart screams clear and swells

to burst between the wrapped lengths

of its bowed ribbon cell

but i am still alive in love and

wide eyed in my time

not a mummy shinking in its cloths

there's a moth flock in my gut growing

a tug at my groin like tides trying to

pull moon towards them, i can't ignore them

and when we say your name our tongues catch flame

and you wonder why we ain't got nothing to say

but your painted pony is fading

lost like a snakeskin in high grass

and out there thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me

you count them blessings cause your net worth

oughta be less cream in your best dreams

but god put a song on my palm

that you can't read

i'll be embalmed with it long before you'll see