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Subtle
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Return Of The Vein
Things are in black and white
You are the sole member of tonight's studio audience
Splayin' before you is the made for
T.V 2-d back drop of some classic cooking show set
The dead man from one dollar, only 30 years younger
Is stood contra posto before you
Front and center on stilts
Pressing the drawn fangs of a tore in two fork
Tenderly against the quivering lip
Of a plastic champagne flute
Several beads of clean water
Quickly slip from the pulled teeth tips
And tangle softly to a body in its empty crystal pit
Fingers in your mouth, out of fear
Your shadow's somehow shot itself up on the wall behind him
Throwing a peace sign up like devil's horns
Above his ever so signature presidents head silhouette
He catches your eye and calls you up to the stage
While he opens a wee door wide in his overall armor
He then shows you a change slot
Bore where his appendix would be
And says softly, 'See how' he too
Had been bit by the audience once
He takes to the floor from his stilts
As you make for beside him on stage
You bump exposed flesh by mistake
The heat from his hurt has its way with the hairs on your neck
Till your glasses go black and you lean back on a yell
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Just then he wiggles a pec with the quickness
And wishes your mouth flooded shut
Full of steel wool, safety glass and loosed teeth
Your shadow now cringed in tight behind you
Is puddled up soaking the skin on your heels
You're busy scraping your tongue down
Like a wild man with the jagged edge of your house key
And angry dream George is once more top his stilts
Still swallowing your yell, calling your attention
Yet again to the slot tore in his side
As he shouts something down
About you sucking out venom
You motion to cover your eyes
While your shadow breaks free and lets dive
Through your back, sucking in its blacks
As you gag from the pit of your person and pitch
Blackpage
You wake up dark eared and edgy on a bench in a park
Sizing up the there amounts of edible meat
On the closest rock dove
And then nearby elderly woman
In the raw, extracting American water
All by bald eye and one public school education
Until you feel like sinking or singing
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