In the Flesh

When I read your thoughts in a hotel when I was eighteen a clam shell shut tight around my heart and your thoughts in my head now all turned into steam

When the clam shell loosened its grip there was sand now in place of my blood then the sand mixed together with the steam in my head and my organs all filled up with mud
But it gets cold around here, the way that six short months slowly turn into four long years

And now a face drawn in chalk on a sidewalk mocks me to death so I could scream at the clouds to rain down till I ran out of breath when my skin melted off and beneath it was my new flesh