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#1

My Father's Muse

Words Actually

Apr 12, 2015

902

1 Min Read

x

My father was a tinker

He had a sort of fervor

Diving into garbage cans and coming up

With treasure

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqyEJmV9kf1

He had a wobbly woodshed

With shelves of sparkly subjects

Tin, copper, thingamajigs, he

Loved all his whatchamacallits

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVz8dCLacxh

One day he took a sharpie,

Called me into his factory

‘Now, now, my refractory child

Stay very still, be quiet

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKGx7BhCJ3x

Don’t move, please!’

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQOfA6Eg054

He took a scalpel to my skin

And slid cold metal in

He wound me up and watched me walk

Around the garden green

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLPmJnnKL9R

Oh, how heavy my back grew

My clothes no longer fit!

And for the fear of rusting

I became a greasy thing

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡemnM7kWvJ3

One day he bade me kneel

He took my brains away

Between my shoulder blades he placed

A roll of yarn, in grey

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi1T0hpBr7S

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

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT4nVuP6u86

Sinew, guts and veins for thread

Fabric with a raw edge

Blood is hem repair glue

You are a brand new you

906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCqaCYxma5C

‘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)