I dont mean the rusted chrome edge
that spills from your beautiful mouth
nictotine and lip gloss
Crass is sweet anyway
sounds dirty and needful
and dangerous
like broken glasses
in a drunks room

I can tell its you by the key in the door
slick like you
no fumbling
no waste of time
no sunny surf
just hammering rains
like week old dust
going down the drain

How I love the ragged edge
you leave me
the jagged bruises
the bruised heart

your perfume etched
in time thats stalled here
the cigarette butts lined
up perfect in the tea saucer
with their red touch
brilliant exclamations
in this shadowed room
the television flickers
giving light to the pale
gloom

in its glow you look like
a beautiful ghost
a ravenous spirit
full of consumption

where youve been
where youve gone
where you stay
I dont want to know

just wait for the key
in the door
and the taste of
your hunger