"crucify my paper tiger"
by Switch (The Poet)




A fragile silhouette slipped
on something a little more comfortable-
blanch silk wrapped in navy noose:
this eulogy is beautiful.

She lusts the touch,
the stain I spill across her limbs;
I'll tell her everything she wants to hear-
because I wrote the book on us.

This is love
with dashed guidelines,
margins, and pencil perfect nothings:

my cursive serenade.

This song makes better braille-
but she knows that more than anyone.
My little anything I want,
welcomed to fold.

I'd like to think
us more than origami makeshift:
duct tape & staple, mane of paperclip.

I loved her on dawn of inkblot,
and through the lost quotation-
but this question mark you wear
is no enigma.

Beneath the misanthrope
your paper maché quivers;
dampened by your own metaphor,
you risk womb for slight of hand.

You have no spine and for that
I'll hold you closer-
as your conclusion finishes i: our stigmata divine-
crucifixion of the paper tiger;
I am your pleasantry vindicated
in lacerate: ϯ

We are artificial-
answered blanks surrounded
by the quills forgotten question;
I'll hold these paper cuts to my heart

short a postage mark.

Untold in ink, so sincerely-
I always loved the lack of right,
in this love I never chose to write.

__________________
[DROPS THE MIC]

Switch (The Poet)



"Cry havok and let slip, the dogs of war"
-William Shakespeare

"Before you judge someone remember...
Amateurs built the arc, Professionals built the Titanic."
-Unknown

Links:
http://www.myspace.com/switchthepoet