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Coward Of Scribbles

Covered in scribbles,
False tattoos that I hide on my skin - that I'm hiding within.
I scrawl them on my flesh - instead of in it. Wait! I ain't finished!
I thought I'd take the train.

It took a lot of time before I started adding that apostrophe to aint,
I used to look at the world with a naive vocabulary, like: isn't this quaint?
Now I see the horrors and they haunt me till I flaunt around in a cape: Batboy go insane,
And fall on my foot till it's sprain't. Verbal abuse heavy until I can't bear the pain and faint.

I used to be anything, but this life aint for the faint of heart.
It's routine. Ice cream you scream. It's not a sweet but it's tart.
I started hard, but I'm going soft. I got the bars, but don't make cross.
Because I want to be happy, and religion is all such a loss. Except maybe Buddhism.

But that's just me. Don't stone me please. Don't maul my bones till they're not stone but seeds,
That wither on the earth - a layer of whitening on the ground like fluor for your dentures,
But all we keep doing with this world is paving our way until it's cement Earth,
That's our seed. That footprint in the wet stone - that's our creed.

Covered in scribbles,
False tattoos on the Earth, but after we're gone they'll just be a riddle,
Something to remember us by, but no one will dig up the bones where we lie,
If the sun swallows us whole. Like a pie. Or a bowl of... frosting.

We used to have beginnings! We used to have endings. We used to have meanings.
But we've lost them - our walls slipped down in a sea of wet paint.
Keep rowing your boat, up the streams and downloads - against the wind that keeps blowing your load,
But I aint. A coward of scribbles.

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