There's this hole on the left side of my chest,
and I'm on my knees in the middle of the desert.
Carrion, carry me on. I want to fly and feast on the dead.
Does that make me an anthropophagite? But you're the one aiming the gun at my head and
I'm dying.
I'm dying. I'm crying,
I'm crying.
Trigger finger, your stone is rusting.
Can you see me,
my absentee
heart? Is the gaping plot hole big enough?
You're looking at me with your eyes for once.
Tell me, where is she,
the dark? Turn off the lights,
I said I'm sorry Soul Sister. I said I love you. (Do you miss her?)
And my chest is on fire.
I don't have a tongue but I've been telling you, babe.
I have been telling you, babe.
Sunshine, sunshine; it's raining, it's pouring.
This girl is dying of thirst and the bottle's in my hand.
Sneaky, cynical bitch. I am the pinnacle of nothing.
Will you remember me, your bitter old
chick-a-Dee?
Kiss me full on the mouth, my hairless Samson.
I'll be your ruin.
Oh, I'll be your Daisy Fay, your very own nuit Blanche.
"Hey, Stella!" Where's that old streetcar?
You brought me to your two-by-four heaven, laid my head on the pillow.
Sang me the symphony of the whole Wild West world.
It's so hot out here; I can barely hear a thing.
Sugar, it's alright. This sad song's about to get better and
I'm not bleeding this time, I'm not watering the works.
It's just a hole, kookamachoo, it's just a hole.

It's so hot out here.


A/N: This was written for the April 2010 Writing Challenge Contest in the Review Game. Check it out sometime.