He Has a White Shirt, You Can Take Him

Is it warmest inside the sun, the way its arms might crave a planet to hold
 Supernova
 Superficial
 Is there a flavor that you've craved since birth but never tasted?
 It's the dissonance of the distances that keep me coming back
 We sit atop our tables like a holiday feast
 And eat the words we say the least
 Bitter and rotten, we try to hide our displeasure
 Baked bread but forgot the yeast
 You and me
 Turned to us and we
 And we'll carve the statues of each other
 Because the marble will not believe
 The way we think we look
 Wheeling down the wooden paths
 The brakes weren't cut
 We just didn't care
 They labelled us contagions
 Hands dragging nooses behind us
 Like tails between our legs
 Memorials of webs lost to a dust rag
 Crack open the urn and lay out the lines
 Honor the dead by consuming the remains
 We fed them to the fire
 Now the fire feeds us
 Arid, my skin has cracked and broken
 A glass shattering beneath the open sun
 Maintaining my borders
 Maintaining my fences
 Maintaining my isolation
 The only way to look over
 Is to look down
 I want nothing more than to find you
 But what will I see when I do?
 Are you still broken?
 Is some assembly required?
 All the roads point away from you
 But the river washes me home
 I broke my teeth on the gravel in your driveway
 Trying to dull the edge that came from your words
 Here I stand
 Take your best shot
 You may hold me down
 With the talons and tethers you were assigned
 But you will never break this
 All of these wounds are self-inflicted
 You will never know the pleasure
 You will never know