By the way you're up to forty-six
today; facial lines
I see the sag; I see the weight your
shoulders have, it's a tell-tale sign.
"5 good years left," the stretch marks say.
I've lost the urge and found the loss of sex
and love, and the madness finds,
His makeup runs, the perfect part in the
perfect play, dropped the perfect line.
I'd rest my case and hang my head.
His frame is rigged and rain erodes his
sandstone fram and his duct tape life.
I'd rest my case and hang my head,
but I can't get out of my bed, to save me
By the way, you're up to ninety-six today