in the pockets of my jeans
are all the things that I might need
it’s cash and coins and nails and string
I keep my courage in my pocket
I keep my armour and my strut
right next to lint and fingertips and change
but I lay down
and feel that creeping crawling feeling
as it all just slips away
give me time
it’s a slow drift motion
condoms, nails and guitar strings
they migrate slowly
round the room
from bed to floor and back again
I keep them within reach
the nails are tell-tale
where I keep the knife
is all they ever seem to need to know
so what is this?
a gift a shelf an open box?
consolidation it is my enemy
I am cancer creeping
crawling feeling
hard to remove
rooted deeply
I’m dreaming dreaming
nightmare screaming
I’m thinking of my
leaving
in the pockets of your old jeans
are all the things that I might need
it’s cash and coins and nails and string
I kept my courage in that pocket
I keep my armour and my strut
right next to space for fingertips and change
but I stand up
and feel that creeping crawling feeling
no gift like that of gravity
to keep my conscience clean
but I stand up
and felt that creeping crawling feeling
no gift like that of gravity
to keep my conscience clean
©2004 rob hinkal
