sometimes

Sometimes I'm tearing my arms off with my teeth because
I can't reach my heart from where my head is situated,
and my heart is where the trouble is, and my head
knows what it needs. It needs to be torn out with teeth,
that's just the sort of trouble it is
sort of.

The trouble is, without you here my heart has too much
and nothing at once, and all the blood in my arteries
and veins is not enough to make up for it. The trouble is,

without you I can't reach my heart, except with my teeth

and they don't reach. But if you were here with your head
on my chest, I would tell you it's all okay. No trouble
then, no way.

Sometimes I'm smoking way too much since I told you
I'd quit, if you told me so. We both know I would,
we both know we know, and I'm just making up

for the rest of my life, and how long it's probably
going to be now.

Sometimes I laugh about it all, because
it's pretty funny. You could live your whole life

not knowing why. And sometimes I know