well, there’s always that…

“trigger”

Whenever I see
a super-market savings club card
I’m high.
The rush is just as good
you don’t have
to feel the bullet;
It’s good enough to pull
the trigger.

Must be bad light,
cause I’m seeing things
and shuddering hard
with a dopey grin.
This shiver ain’t because
I’m cold, quite the opposite
is true.
Clenched like I’m
all barbed wire tangled up,
seeking something I can’t control
all the time
like I can right now.

Then the wave hits.
Whether or not I got a damn
thing hasn’t got
nothing to do with it.
Thinking ’bout my sweet baby
holding me tight
is good enough for me,
cause when she’s holding me
I’m smiling,
scratching my skin
with fingernails,
not enough to draw blood
just to feel that
burn.

Maybe it ain’t the real thing;
ain’t the first time
I’ve made do
without.
I’m doing well,
as you can see,
well, as you could see,
if I was still here,
not rolling in my sweet
baby’s arms to the clackin’
of the rail and the tap
of the glass.

Pull the trigger,
I need it bad.

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