Workhorse

In the morning When the cold hurts Most starvation cancers Within its host This is frightening And this is profane The way that we ease into age We only need this bread To let us know that Hunger lies unaligned With being alone Age secures us Our space in the storm Where we will weather worn Like a well worked whore Time will take us By our tender wounds And it'll scab us hard And leave us blue White light.. This can't be right One life? Despite who knew that I didn't want to be with you I don't want to die alone