Tim will burn

“I’m a musician” just say that you’re broke.

Show us the empty guitar case you lie in front of you

In front of your home like Oscar the Grouch, mask a passion with angst

Pull that drive back like a pit on a chain bully to subdue so you don’t show us you have vulnerability

Button up your shirt like a custodian going to work yet you feel exposed in your cubicle

You’re vulnerable and splayed the malnourished form like a body pillow for everyone to see

Let them have fun trying to sexualize the empty watermelon you eat to sustain yourself

Because Pedro always looked better when he was skinny,

Show us your bones and prove you’ll expose them in your lyrics

Make your words hit us like the tarnished metal in a forgotten ammo case

Make your passion bleed from the desperation in your eyes

But only when you get back from work, you little latte dancing work machine.


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