Welcome to the last time 

that You can buy my answer with less than a question. 

I would sell the hands off my wrists if they weren't so preoccupied 

with taking the bread from Your fingers and downing this cheap New Year’s wine 

that we call Your blood. 

And You can wait for midnight but my lips are sealed. 

And You can wait for midnight but my lips are sealed. 



In this garden I'm waiting anxiously 

for my children to come and murder me. 

In this crowded room, staring nervously lovers lick at their lips and wait for the kiss. 

I've been sharpening 

my teeth for this moment 

and I'll stab with my lips but You've already won 



Is there no resolution? 

Well, I’ll call these rafters my gallows, 

and strung up by day-old party streamers 

in the back of my mind I can see 

the merlot dripping from Your hands and feet