Dead under the moon

Friday night, everything feels light, maybe I had a bit too much –
Oh the eloquence, poems at midnight
Oh the indifference, girl, you have so much to offer!
Maybe I look at things more in a cluster
You’re so damn linear
I bet you must have
linear dreams and immeasurable means to
kill me with logic
kill me with logic

She tries to take up space she’s in
He tries to capture everything
What life is it you want to lead
When there’s a fire at your feet

Sunday morning, and I keep on calling you names that have no longer meaning to you
are a janitor, lawyer a parent, imposter, a name-giver, even an astronaut

Sunday evening, all I’m believing fits in a box underneath your left eye
All the things simple, all the things clean, crumble under the pressure of standard ideas

I write a manifesto
I do the dishes
I fuck with patriarchy
I make some wishes
I write an application
I pass out drunk
I am no rebel girl
I am off plumb

She tries to take up space she’s in
He tries to capture everything
And by the time its afternoon
We’ll all be dead under the moon



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