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#1

My Father's Muse

Words Actually

Apr 12, 2015

920

1 Min Read

x

My father was a tinker

He had a sort of fervor

Diving into garbage cans and coming up

With treasure

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡolXi2mEoLQ

He had a wobbly woodshed

With shelves of sparkly subjects

Tin, copper, thingamajigs, he

Loved all his whatchamacallits

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2UHgYHJRX5

One day he took a sharpie,

Called me into his factory

‘Now, now, my refractory child

Stay very still, be quiet

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTBQGBXt3Ce

Don’t move, please!’

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3hyDSCyrjI

He took a scalpel to my skin

And slid cold metal in

He wound me up and watched me walk

Around the garden green

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEANjzKERex

Oh, how heavy my back grew

My clothes no longer fit!

And for the fear of rusting

I became a greasy thing

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Vl2hb36gM

One day he bade me kneel

He took my brains away

Between my shoulder blades he placed

A roll of yarn, in grey

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAeJUZK9xNw

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

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZfC9WZPH14

Sinew, guts and veins for thread

Fabric with a raw edge

Blood is hem repair glue

You are a brand new you

924Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIwP5sQwKbj

‘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.’

ns216.73.216.6da2

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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)