A Little Water

4/2/11

Bring me little water, Sylvie.

Soon this burnings gonna do me in.

Been living with the heat for 18 years, know its a time bomb

and this house? Just kindlin'.

Waiting,

smoldering,

holding out for a big bad bang

to huff and puff 'til its a wall of flames.

Maybe one more drink will quench it

just enough to moisten the parchment

that coats my useless throat,

give some relief to a hopeless fool

wishing for a yes and no in one breath,

doin' nothing but humming in a rocking chair

while there's only seconds left

'til everything burns to pieces

an inferno on the way

my veins cry out "do something! try and stop it!"

my voice lost inside a dry mouthed coffin,

seems a seamstress stitched up my pink chapped lips and now,

I'm bracing for the storm of ashes

sure to blow it all gray.

Wish I had you with me.

Wish you'd said you'd stay.

You did, come to think of it, but it was hard to hear.

I was a tin man with creaky joints,

straw stuck between my ears,

taking up where a brain should be.

More in a chest where a heart didn't beat.

Fear making me cowardly

with no shoes to drag me home.

So let this house fall,

flaming on the way down.

Just bring me a little water before it starts,

let me take a final bow.

Its been one hell of a show.

I'd say "thank you" and "I'm sorry"

but I never learned those lines.

We cant remake history

even if we say it three times.