The Postcard Shop

Stop telling me it's 9:12. I know. I've called you, I've seen your stony flowery hands, pointless, Pointless aren't you? Stop burning yourself. Here. Take this cup. Spit. You are not so useless, not so far far from home, are you? When you smoke I get giggly. Ring after ring of jewels, pink ones, plastic ones on your skin. You could be a character, one on a motorcycle, fire, police chief. You take me for the pain. Step up. Stop crying. I watch you from behind the postcards. I am not one of your influences. Ring in ring, you only lock in with yourself, So pointless, so pointless by yourself. You Do not step up, or ever ever ever stop crying. Stop telling me it's 9:12. Stop burning yourself. Foolish. I should be your only influence. You are useless, pointless and far far from home It's not them you are afraid of.