the only time I'll talk about a jacket is jacketed hollow points
a portrait of a woman's body lying on the ground
a portrait of a woman's body covered in filth
was it the white canvas's fault it was thrown in the trash?
an infant who is born early keeps
no residual oxygen inside their lungs
and must completely reinflate them
everytime, until their lungs, like a balloon, tire,
they suffocate
car exhaust, the smell of rotting filth
my balloon is tiring

My balloon burst and you were there,
holding a bucket and holding my hair,
back, offering me a hoodie,
my balloon burst and you were there,
it reinflated,
a prebie born, the miracles of modern medicine

I'm sorry, you know
I didn't mean to
I'd do anything you want, I'm sorry,
and you're kissing me, and I taste like vomit,
and I'm sorry,
don't be, don't be, don't be

The only time I'll talk about a jacket is jacketed hollow points

and then,
baby, do you want my jacket?