Onion skin is on my bitter lips tonight
A sidewalk canvas open to the mytique
that lays near me - side by rotten side
wheels to the carpet pavement
hand in warm-skinned jeans
the world is shedding skins like a garden hose
and I'm ready to walk home tonight
My world's a mess of hormones and abrasions
the lined hand of my mother
and a man, untried, untrue
embarking on a journey from the pebbles to the stars
from the peasants to mountain's majesty.
I'm calm now by the seashore
of a lilting masterpiece
I want some time to whisper fantasies
Spring and street lights by the road side
laid naked on a street sign
we are dirtied and so far apart tonight
lips still licking onion skin
I'm hungry from the fight
Sewing myself together with the thin and fragile peels
the plane flies into twilight as I'm yearning to be healed
I can still sleep outside tonight
