Mine my heart with your shovel
and pickaxe with no word spoken
for what seems like days. Drag
yourself away and be that man
you deserve to be. Be a ghost if
you like, I’ll lay here and wait.
Hand me a smoke and wait
til it’s burned away, hand me a
whisky and show me how to
play these ivory keys while we
sway. The drum roll. It excites
to crescendo. Then you’re gone.
Silence rockets and this taste
is inhumane. Mine my heart
and say what you say. You’ll
be gone in the morning and I
prefer it this way.
Vast Imbecility 