You shot me with those frozen bullet eyes
which at first ice-berged the center of my soul
but I didn't die.
can't be killed by a dead man.
The swipe of that ice crystal hand
was dismissively lodged
in my breathing space
and I cried;
but real tears don't fall for the already deceased,
I stood full on
in Massive Regret
shrounded in its Cape of Sorrows
persevered on to day next
which I could and would melt
you now come back
hands now greased
with your own blood and wounds
I was the only one who'd understand
how a dead man feels.
I took your face in my hands
ignoring the bitter sweet irony taste
whispering yet into your crinkled ears
that you'd been gone just long enough
for there to be no feeling left
for cruel lovers
who first cut flesh
that part of me now gone
or for Johnny come lately life lines.
"poison your water
and still expect to drink."