censure me
i have run through every pocket
of every man i might have loved
just might be time to find a new town
where the moths they aren’t quite so hungry
put me there
in the corner of contrition
have me swear on a holy stack
have me pledge i’ll never wander
from the creases on your brow
or your eyes upon back
censure me
only then will i be free
take me down to the station
leave my bags by the wailing wall
charge my room and my drinks
to that stiff in the corner
and i’ll gladly be on my way