In the safe zone now
but you can't handle this
dangerouslessness
childhood-inflicted survivor-tude
yet another tin prison
holding your falling parts hostage
holding your hand bent at the wrist
pinching off the tube to your colostomy bag
picnicking so pretty on the other side of this fence
where deer eat from your palm like starving children
and you remember hunger like silence
when no one answered into the night
you still finger the divot-scars
from your skull-staples at the dinner table
still so rampant it is
this uneasiness for selling seats
to a sell-out, suffering, sideshow
now you wear-tight your seat-belt
bedded down and helmeted around
you bore the boring, waiting for crosswalks
and now you even pay for the things taken store to home
you ride a bike that no one is looking for
you have friends you can trust now
lovers that love you
neighbors that neighbor
funny little luxuries of three meals a day
your guitars don't belong to hockshops
you chat weather to uniforms in 711s
as if your not a dangerous criminal
smiling down the strangers you encounter
whistling zippity-fucking-doo-dah
and yet you risk nothing
and yet you feel all dead-tree-rotted inside
hear it now gurgling indigestion
and you start to think this
thrilllessness
an illness in us
isn't it killing us
foam-coating this
fabricated phantasm
cardboard cut-outs of the truth
fun-house safe-zone
they're pickling parts of you
in this predictable-stagnation
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