Fatalist Palmistry

i sleep on my back cause it's good for the spine
and coffin rehersal
i know a psychic who reads her own palms
and her findings are personal
she keeps her fists shut tight and she sleeps on her side,
well maybe she knows something i don't know

but i am still alive in love and
wide eyed in my time
not a mummy shrinking in its cloths
your cat clawed out my eyes while i's
distracted by your smile
and now my sockets sit like empty catcher's mitts waiting
and you ask me if there's anybody else that i'm dating

'anna and nathan'
anna, i'm patient

but your painted pony is fading
lost like a snakeskin in high grass
and out there thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me
you count them blessings cause your net worth 
oughta be less cream in your best dreams
but god put a song on my palm 
that you can't read

i'm lucky to be under
this same sky that held
the exhale from your first breath
like a ring on a pillow of clouds
by you my tongue may stutter
but my gift heart screams clear and swells
to burst between the wrapped lengths
of its bowed ribbon cell

but i am still alive in love and
wide eyed in my time
not a mummy shinking in its cloths
there's a moth flock in my gut growing
a tug at my groin like tides trying to
pull moon towards them, i can't ignore them
and when we say your name our tongues catch flame
and you wonder why we ain't got nothing to say

but your painted pony is fading
lost like a snakeskin in high grass
and out there thrashing like a pet bird caught in a jet stream, that's me
you count them blessings cause your net worth 
oughta be less cream in your best dreams
but god put a song on my palm 
that you can't read
i'll be embalmed with it long before you'll see