there you are,
standing in your kitchen, wearing
that awful business smile.
god, that smile hurts me.
cleans my cage hollow.
i hope you know,
i still see you under all that primer.
under all that paint you've poured
recklessly over the roof, the windows, the sidewalk.
i walked through your wet paint
and now i'm stuck.
and the porch lights are stuck
and the doors are dried shut.
and everything is covered up.
and you know as well as I,
that you can't paint the outside forever.
it's the inside that needs a coat,
or a fresh pint of blood.
something to bring back the
the love for tomorrow.
but as it stands,
there are only a handful of colors you want to paint with.
and dammit sweetheart,
as much as i hate you right now, i do understand.
when it comes to the inside...
if you can't choose the colors you want,
it ain't worth painting anything at all.