▦ piss or rust? ▦

When I come home, my shoes are covered in a chalky snakeskin residue
I run a bath of salt and blood and everything alive
My feet are pale, white and shriveled, these days that’s all they’ll ever do
My toes peer in the well like eager children and dive
Too limp to have a sex drive

And when I have the money to move to a greasy plate
Then I’ll swell like a ripe scrap of fruit
I’ll lick off the remains of what other men already ate
And I’ll lay there limp and wait for the boot
Oh, and then I’ll have no commute

You and I will commune in our rattling tin can
While every word that I speak makes me feel nauseous
God is a fluorescent beam that distracts me from that man
Until I wash off rodenticide in my small tiled hospice
But you still tell me to be cautious

I ride, hunched, on the back of the steel monster
It wants me off, it can feel me pluck at it’s matted hair
Is it piss, or rust, dripping off your honor?
Your predator’s beak makes me hyperaware
But I know it would be rude to stare