A Name like Tobleron
Severed fingernails beneath the teeth she bites them with,
A silver bangle dangling from her wrist.
Knuckles white and hard from years of smoking cigarettes,
She doesn't have that long (I think you get the gist)
She's a sinker,
On a fishing wire.
She's this crooked little easel of a girl,
Clumps of hair they tear and fall about the place.
And when she smiles (which isn't often, and it takes a while)
It's like her lips against the grain of her face.
She's a sinker,
And she's cast away.
She has a name because her mother called her Toblerone,
She has a dog which she just calls Dog.
And when it yelps it coughs and splutters through the living room,
And wades its way into the niccotene fog.
She's a sinker,
She's a sinker,
She's a sinker,
And she's sinking down,
Here.