adjusted in a silent way you took a wrench to your attitude said it had a crick in its neck so your wrist became god to alter what you couldn't without a tool you never used on anything you couldn't kick your breath it smelled like gasoline your hands were black as coal your hair was heavy with the wet your work made i need a shower you said well i'll run you one well you can't run one a shower isn't a bath well i'll run away instead i'll borrow what i can't buy and steal what i can't borrow and sleep beneath a tarp too far away to touch and say look what the day made me look what it did when it died it's beautiful as sin and ugly as the shape i'm in 141217 what's it to you? who go blather from