Keep the Feathers For Me

when you kill the fat chickens to fill your big bellies and pet kittens please keep the feathers for me I crave to craft some strong and long wings that I should fly to those deceased things, sweated for, but betrayed by your flaw; a betrayed free home for us all I want to fly there, this dirty and bare, my sick body to have that touch of care, long gone, seasoned by burdens of shared tablets as prescriptions, a mockery to what the law stipulates I want to fly there, this dirty and bare, my car cistern once more to overflow and dare the long, dusty, twisting and twirling ramps no longer to bear nippy nights at fuel pumps, I want to fly there, this dirty and bare, my crackled hands foreign currency to bear and to believe blackouts are but apocalypse; to touch taps that run throughout without lapse I want to fly there, this dirty and bare, my colours to openly and boldly declare and talk my blues without a worried glance over my bony shoulders in fear of a pounce a smack or a tirade of name-calling from arrogant mouths, frothing and fluffing. so when you kill the fat chickens and wine and dine the remains please keep the feathers for me.