You fed it to me with a medicine spoon
And restored gravity in my head
I blew your horn it was merely a whistle
Now my hands lie flaccid and red
You gave me the cast before breaking me down
Hit the wrong button but played it off close
Slapped my hand when I reached for the capped dead end
I'm still here but in you I'm a ghost
The soft rehearsed rhythms of comforting thought
You whispered them into my ear
But as they defile my open remorse
They find I can no longer hear
I let you reverberate lost painting prose
For a second we lost myself
Yet you drank me up into numbered success
I was simply a toast to your health
The petals hang limply and dead in the shade
And still shaking I grasp at your hand
I inject you into my invisible veins
Short a grip there's no way I can stand
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