Not getting on with it

If you ask me
I want to change nothing
the walls can remain grey
and the cushion warm
let the ceiling fan cough,
even the words and sound
hanging in the air
can remain like that
as long as they don't come
crashing to the ground,
a long time ago...
I wanted to kill the clock
but it kept ticking,
the books can also stay
paperweights, the tablelamp
amd the familiar smells,
you can keep on asking
but I want to change nothing

Tremor

Let's drink to your silence
to the cracked toe nail
and the whiskey breath
to the static lizard
to the dreams dripping
from the edge of the night
and cheers to the whore
memorizing her moaning routine
as she rubs her snake skin on mine