My mother would scream
You're a failure
You'll end up a janitor
She wanted what was best
for her.
This house is a slum
Boy scouts, age 8
Steven and Mike
You ugly little beasts
Curtis
you fat ****
Fell like a man?
What is a man?
I have no clear image
Like painting an image
except an image is imagined
No clear model
No clear picture
No wonder
I'm ******
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 9:31 AM UTC
You go through my veins
Like Alcohol
or blood
But my body
My imperfect body
is clumsy
My fingers fail to move
So I grab your neck harder
And I stretch my fingers
Slap
Slap
Slap
Nothing
Works.
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
The shovel hits the dirt in softened thunks
I hope you come up whole, and not in chunks
You’re buried deep, at six feet down
Was she buried in jeans or in a gown?
I hope to be your Romeo from a thousand romance plays
Nevermind, I think you know what dead girls can’t say
Nilsen gave me some sage advice
Don’t ever go to the same yard twice
And don’t toss the old ones in the sink
That’s one good way to get tossed in the clink
Six feet of dirt now to my side
You’re coming with me, you’re taking a ride
You thought the hearse was the last of your life
Don’t be daft, honey, you’ll soon be my wife!
Your coffin smells, my dear it’s true
It is no matter, I love your blue
Skin, your thinning hair
Into your fading eyes I stare
As I caress
That cold dead spot
Beneath your dress
I hope, my dear, you don’t mind the trunk
My head is swimming; am I in love or just drunk?
Oh, if you look upon my trunk with dread
Would help to think of it as a marital bed?
Maybe some wine to get in the mood, with you by side
Just the moonlight a pint of the Wild I
I know some look upon me strange
And some would call my love deranged
They don’t understand, they’re far too snobby
This isn’t a curse, just a hobby
If they saw me like this I know they’d panic
But I’m not crazed, on drugs or manic
I feel peace when I see your lipless smile
I know I’m just a harmless necrophile.
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
On your crucifixtion day, take a gift from me
It didn’t cost a cent, I made it all for free
You’ll love it like you did Mary Magdaline
A small glimpse of the world after you go off and die for sin
I’m a man of words, I hope you’ll stick around
You don’t have a choice, those nails are in there pretty sound
As you’re dying of dehydration and hematadrosis
Know that now in court, people blame you for their psychosis
A father hears a voice tells him to **** his kid
You’re responsible for more infant deaths than SIDS
Another man fills a pipe with nails; a clinic up in flames
And the inspiration derives from your holy name
The Holy Crusades, now that’s a delight
Did you know they actually sent children to fight?
It’s true, and in your name no less
I’ll tell you right now, it was not a success
They next denied the holocaust
But never you think all is lost
They’re right on board with marrying gays
Oh wait, I messed up that last phrase
I don’t think you fathom the harm to come
The damage that’s done because you’re the son
Of the holy god, my former employer
Before I was keeper of killers and lawyers
Heres some advice, take it from me
You’re wasting your time, get off that tree
Get down, and have a long talk with your father
Tell him **** ‘em all, and next time try harder.”
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 9:21 AM UTC