your own planet

the poetry of dr zen

Tuesday, February 16, 1988

A man in your bed

Theres a knife in your back — rusting like
the love is gone sour — Theres no way to
go back —
Theres no fear of attack
Only fear of the sweating fear
Theres nobody here — No one I know
Theres a knife in your back — No one took
your place — No one holding your hand
Theres nothing to understand.

The lights are dimming —
they're out —
No more coins for the meter.
Tonight the cars are all stopped
Tonight the whsipers are stilled,
Theres a knife in your back
One step and youre killed —

No longer you're killed,

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