Eyesore

This blacktop has become a hot grill
in the ever cringing gaze of father sun
and a beast of sorts in what little remains sprawls itself across it

The metal armor only swerves around as I stare
I only wish I owned a pool at this moment
So that I would own a pool skimmer
So that I could assemble this memory

Cranium askew and tissue twisted and torn
much like my relationship to you
I identify with this mess more than I care to let you realize
because deep down my flesh yearns for fresh timber

However all I can do is envy this beautiful eyesore
because it has a red collar with a silver tag around what may be its neck
which means there is someone who will miss it

I could pass old age and bend new years around a metal spoon
before I ever find a collar like that one again
I’ve worn my share with you, through opiate and descent
eventually I just said fuck it
I don’t need your eyes
I just don’t
So stop glaring and buy a pool skimmer, bitch