WWTWD?

sometimes you have to flick the filth off
it's so thick, weeks of stained grace
and favour gone wrong
faith forgotten in the face of
an every morning armageddon

toes that bleed through dirty socks
a blanket that gets pissed on
every time you sleep
hair you'd rather pull out than
suffer the stench of

on days like these few things are important

but don't forget to ask the question,
"what would tom waits do?"
as you hunch in whino prayer
over a friendly bar
finding clues in that same old outline,
a hopeful ring of condensation
that some chump who came before you
left behind

verily, my dear
i want to fuck you like an animal*
and
if i may;
if it is not too forthright or
bold,
if i am not overstepping a boundary
or four:
my bed looks good on you

my room frames your face like
the perfect haircut
which,
if i may;
if it would make you smile or
blush,
if i could say without sounding too keen
or heavy-handed:
you can boast as well

you could get lost there
in those sheets
and they could get lost
in that smell of yours

you could sleep heavy
on pillows still hot
from stories we passed across them,
tall tales of tiny lies and big fear

and i could watch on
writing poems too formal
in words too weak
to explain that
verily, my dear

i want to fuck you like an animal

sometimes i
talk to my dog
smiling
because he don't know
or care
what it is
i got to say

but i tell him
i rattle off my stories
changing names to protect
those innocent bystanders
reluctant witnesses
playing shadow to fear

i tell him
i say
you watch those ones, hound
they'll never help you out

and he just listens
grinning like only a beast can
stinkin of his own filth
his shit and
skin
his fleas and
ticks

i tell him
i say
your breath sickens, hound
like rotting flesh stuck under tongue

but then i keep talking
talk about a song
talk about the blues
that slow ache that whispers
"you're on to something,
now suffer for it"

i keep telling him about it all
smiling
he keeps listening
growling in the good parts