Comfy Coffin Lining

My saxophone rusts,
my stomach groans for food,
each girl
out there
is a movie with a
bad ending,
the earth turns and
I burn with torturous perspective.
hands still dance
across faces of
watches and clocks,
my body suffers it’s usual
perennial floods
and droughts,
my sampler collects dust
instead of sounds
and cobwebs are spun
around me.
But don’t worry:
spiders are very beautiful creatures
after all,
and it doesn’t hurt
anyway,
it just
tickles.