Very Well by Matthew Milia

Burning smell of black-dyed hair
Bathroom bit by winter air
You shit-talk your old lovers
What's left 'neath your cold covers?
Your father's shaky tacit holds
Ankles strangled in the folds
The fitted sheet at the feet of spring
Come see me when you can't sing
Any longer as things go
Mouth all full of filthy snow

And you wouldn't know
But I still can't believe
And that smell
The burning hell
Of the tress
And what can I tell
You but yes?
And very well

I wake up to a joke so deep
Laugh myself right back to sleep
Walk along the thawing shore
That's pawing at my young drugstore
Where last I saw your baby teeth
Glinting as I fell beneath

And you wouldn't know
But I still can't believe
And that smell
The stinging swell
Of the day
Has shown me the way
And what can I say
But very well?

And you wouldn't know
But I still can't believe
About that smell
The way it fell
Indelibly spry
And how am I?
Can't you tell?
I'm very well

I'm very well

Appears on Sitcom Afterlife