I'm in a cement dress and I can't dance.
I'm in a steel smile and I bite hard.
I'm snortng daggers and I can't breathe.
I'm driving too fast. The morning won't tell me
any secrets. The radio's drained of its last song
and the soft crackle left behind sets this desert ablaze.
I'm running. There are footsteps behind and a
hot wind on the back of my neck. The
birds have scattered and the sky drops slowly.
There are stories I can never tell you. That skyscraper
is about to break across my back. I'm carrying the weight
of the city in my brain. A freeway burns along my spine.
I itch all over. My spiked shoes riccochet
through an empty room. The wind has died. Its sting remains.
I'm in a truth-telling mood and you won't like it.