Ribmeat Of The Family Tree

Everybody knows; you always start with scissors.

8-11-05

I get the privilege
to auction off my words
to the loveliest bidder.
Yet they don't make you high
once they hit your ears,
after making their way
from my mouth.
When I speak to you it's truth.
If I lied
you could rock me up and down
and leave me paper thin.
We're not fit for interpretations
or insinuations.
Don't leave scissors open.
We cut before we even know
it slices deep.
When are you going to learn
that I'm the sheath
beneath your incisor?
I've tried to cut all problems off
before they start,
but you prefer to amplify them;
be they real or not.
It never seems to matter
what anyone does for you.
If it's not bout the past
it's about the
unserving future for you.
That makes me uncomfortable
being your rock of stability;
the one you don't see
hitting you right upside your actions.