With my other-self

I finally cracked man,
I finally got a nickle,
I finally ordered a
sandwitch with pickles
but that won't
take fear out of my
head with a knife,
I know what I hear,
the lies when they
talk about my life.

The lies and
betraying flies
around us like
some secret spies
lurking in and
around the ropes
that pull together
the dreams and hopes,
and someday I
may realize that
birds are flying in
disguise to the
city where tragic
mystery dies.

Then crack of dawn
splits my eyelids
wide to the phone call
where my slippers hide
underneath some sort
of metal bed
that holds a mattress
on a sled,
as I lay back
comfortably protecting
the pillow with my head,
I sink now deeply
til the end.