A cereal box- some kids brand
your slippers by the door
the keys on the table.
You were here,
you are always here.
My barnacle.
I couldn't scrape you off if I tried.
I haven't tried.
When I sleep you flop a hairy leg on me
or a heavy arm on my chest
or stomach
I can't breathe, my friend.
Your pubes left on my toiletseat
your cigarette butts mixed with mine
a half smoked joint in the ashtray
There is no space for me to crawl into myself
no cuddle room
I feel you in irrational places
trying to crawl up under my skin.
I can't love you more than I already do
I can't give you any more of me
So for the sake of all that is holy man,
stop with the voodoo:
I see you creep,
naked as the day you were born,
looking for the entrance to my soul,
so you can clean out the shop
I set up security.
I will not give you my fire, my glitter,
my razz-le-dazz-le,
you mother fucker,
so back the fuck off.
