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#1

My Father's Muse

Words Actually

Apr 12, 2015

897

1 Min Read

x

My father was a tinker

He had a sort of fervor

Diving into garbage cans and coming up

With treasure

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZNveo9DVvW

He had a wobbly woodshed

With shelves of sparkly subjects

Tin, copper, thingamajigs, he

Loved all his whatchamacallits

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVrEftjVAZ3

One day he took a sharpie,

Called me into his factory

‘Now, now, my refractory child

Stay very still, be quiet

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNTVkOQZBn7

Don’t move, please!’

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKqhUuR78x9

He took a scalpel to my skin

And slid cold metal in

He wound me up and watched me walk

Around the garden green

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKqkw98ocSV

Oh, how heavy my back grew

My clothes no longer fit!

And for the fear of rusting

I became a greasy thing

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG1m8Kk86NH

One day he bade me kneel

He took my brains away

Between my shoulder blades he placed

A roll of yarn, in grey

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH3Y00OlYqk

He took the bones from my hands

And sharpened them to points

Your body is a treasure chest, he said

Take just what you need

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ00VMnFPFMu

Sinew, guts and veins for thread

Fabric with a raw edge

Blood is hem repair glue

You are a brand new you

901Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmOhGVYw4fS

‘There,’ he said, ‘now you my dear

Are well-equipped for life

You’ll find when people cut you up

It will never bring you strife.’

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Table of Contents

#1 My Father's Muse

#3 Love Hurts, and So Does the Way You Look Tonight

#4 Notes From the Void

#5 The Fault in These Lines (Final Issue)