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PNDC & Housework
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The Fix
here I bear the liquor of the buried dead
some was bled from the sewing machine
some was bled to me in a dream
she carries them on her back as another day begins
'Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labor'
but after all I carry the grain of the laboring dead
cutting short the nonsense of what forever meant
some journeys are meant to be travelled on heavy legs
and all the medicines won't help me recollect
dressed to die, now softly alive
dressed to die, with my red veins full of lye
now softly alive
you got me dressed to kill once
but I've been always dressed to die
I took the lazy way down
The metal stairs
From the roof
Through the overgrown garden
And the kitchen door
To her bedroom
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And her eyes
Not dead
Her mouth
Not speaking
Not dead
Teeth missing
And warnings spelled
Next year we'll be less
Or maybe this year
Bankrupt in the real world
Spirit broke in an empty house
Just keep on watching family ghosts
Like there's time to spend
Or life left to spend
Disapproving clientele
I hurry down the channels
To find my fiction
To find my fix…
/Quote from dylan thomas's 24/
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