Tattered flags
Wedding dress train
White fringe cached in dirt road
Like baggy jeans bottoms
Converse stomped but worn each day like a religion.

Stolkholmes syndrome
Maybe she would have taken off the dress for the right sandpaper hands.
Delicately telling time and wearing her
Down six months
Down eight years
Down in the basement
Ducttape cuffed to a wooden chair
Bandages torn off slow
Like a drag on a thick cigar
From fat lips
Fat teeth
Fat wallets.

She spent a lot of time on her side smashed down on her bruised ear.
From the cold concrete after tipping cedar legs
Or listening too closely

Didn't clover though
Despite the Irish eyes
She isn't lucky enough to have scars
We can see.

Green. She is tall
Held fire shattered in year 20-something
She has flash backs
When men in black
Hold pens to her nose and click

A boat from Ellis island
Rainstorm on white picket signs and fences in a dance of coin and sweat

Under long arms
Holding the hilt
Called the broken blade fire.
Say there's a mountain somewhere that matched her on tinder
Three men's faces carved into it.
I hear she used to represent freedom
Before being robbed of her flaming sword

I bet if the statue of liberty had a voice

And she does

She would wear a red dress.
No makeup
Sew her mouth shut
Love the pain
and post Gore **** pictures
on adult websites as confession.

I believe the statue of liberty owns stripper heels
And can run in them.

I believe god is a broken torchlight.

I believe being consumed by the fires of god is a metaphor
For drowning in the green shrapnel of a voice or a wedding dress.

I believe I am ready to be a statue
To drop my fire in the ocean

Crumble under America
be found in Atlantis under pounds of enough pressure
only the angler fish can tempt me.

At least underwater
Men are ***** producing parasites
And I can drown in something beautiful.

I want my book in a children's library
I want my book in a maximum security prison

I want my book resting on a cloud in a sky
to be seen by a passenger in an airplane
the passenger to crack the escape hatch and jump
survive the fall

I want my book to be a parachute
I want my book surrounded by tiny hands,

hearts,
and mouths,
saying I love you
I love me.
I will survive

I want a book that is a house
for the abandoned
I want a book that is a vacany sign
Rent me.

I want my book that is a headstone
I want a book that is a flowerbed
I want a book that is a matchstick
a Tire Iron
an oil tanker

I want a book that is a leatherman
in a hunters pocket
in the belly of a deer
in the zip ties and cellophane
of a childs Christmas present

I want a book that bleeds

I want a book held by tiny hands
with wide eyes
wider because of me

I want to destroy the innocence of children
by handing them courage and wisdom
I want to inspire revolution
I want sad eyes and clenched fists
I want skydive
wings grown during the fall

I want a nation run by answers
with blood stained sheets

I want a book that is every question
symbiotic book
single cell organism
splits in two hearts

I want a book that is a surgeon

saving lives,
holding scalpel
I want a book with hands up
no rubber gloves, just a gun to it's back
an engine running
I want a book that is a bank robbery
paper bag mask
on fire
Molotov cocktails
disguised as champagne bottles
Destined for VIP

I want the man who threw it
to be the only one burning
and well read
And *****
I want my book in his VIP

I want him to read it with a melted eye
I want my book in his prison cell
to be next to me
maximum security
my casket

I want a book resting
on a cloud in the sky
in a children's library
surrounded by tiny hands
Before I am gone.

I confused agave
for Amber
when you spoke
Drank a glass full

Choked on all the flys
In elementary school
Muesem of sepia boxes

Sluggish down my throat
Petrified My heart
buzzing
Pathetic, and filthy
frozen in carbonite nectar
Like a classroom fly

blush my cheeks
make my cold hands touchable
Harvest my Amber heart

I never was
A mourning person.
But I have always been
An exhibition.

I make you pancakes in the morning
Strawberries and whip cream
Just like my grandmother used to make
They call me the trash monster

Those tattoos of wings on your shoulders?
Those were the first two tattoos I ever stabbed into a person.
You were my first.

Remember I was the one who told you to pluck your eyebrows
How you cringed and refused.
plucked them the same direction
they were growing.
One by one.
So you wouldn't feel pain
I made you beautiful

They call me the trash monster

I paid for your world of Warcraft subscription.
I was at every birthday
your second mother

They call me the trash monster

My face is on national Televsion
Photographs of my living room.
The same one you woke up in every Saturday morning.

You wouldn't even recognise it.
Hidden beneath all of this spilt hourglass sand

So much between us now.
Prison bars
fast food shrapnel.

They call me the trash monster

A baby boy.
His little sister
Swimming in this filth
My depression hording

Their father left us for a 19 year old who lusted after his motor cycle
joined a gang
sells heroine

Left his autistic son and daughter
Taken now, my everything
From the nest

I was left to clean

They call me the trash monster

This filth
The broken wooden horse
The wax paper backs of sticker sheets.
The McDonald's bags n' grease
Scrapbooking strip cutters.

They call me the trash monster

Did you hear yet?
Do you remember me?
Did you throw me out?

I've got my warrior ******* on
Wolverine lent me these acrylics

Lasso your credit card with my weave
Tuck your tunnel vision in my G-string

This is my ******* song
Got my bad girl heels on

You can't get me off your mind
So how you gonna get me off

Come over to the throne room
I've got an after for you baby

What other religion costs $25 per song

Give me your devotion
I want Matronage
Ritual

When I was 19 I turned days into kalediscopes
Water into water
Paper covers rock
And coke cures a bad trip

Trip over my perfume

You won't spend money on me High on life
So let's get you depressed

Tell me your story sad boy
I've got rent to pay.

Ever given an apology
when embarrassment
was your true feeling?

Is there space between them?
Or is one the wrapping paper?
Silverskin on coffeebean.
Parchment.
Ornate half mask on a dancer in all black
Between Pointed nose and chandileier
Same infastructure as churches
Decorated to make others look to god.
Up, with gargoyales and bells

If embarrassment is the root of an apology.
Does it ring?

What time of day?

Embassy of embarrassment is your apology.
It is no secret, it is kevlar.
Harder to break.

If you are never embarrassed.
You cannot be sorry.

pride and abandon
As honest as they are to a man
Who loves to love
Strike offensive on ears set
To red at your past.
Own the honesty like a magic shield.
You will not have the kevlar of apology
If you do not have the embarrassment.

You'll need to fake it.
This takes delicate work.
Convincing the world you are not selfish
When born in america
Is not easy.

Loving your own failure seems proof enough
To learn from mistakes
But intellect.
Is not the opposite of selfishness.
In abundance you carry both as a burden.

People see you as a man, honest.
People see you as a man, who was not honest.
People see you as a man, selfish.
People see you as a man, who would rather be wrong and manic than human.

And people see through sometimes the armor
Of your *******
And magic armor of your smile

Because you talk too much

When all you want is too be heard,
Your biggest weakness is when someone listens.

You are so powerfull when no one hears you.
And you are so seen when you never open your mouth.

But the second you do.
You are ugly.

Underneath the ornate white mask and pointed nose
Without the smooth pleasentries of a nirror for a face.
You are seen a bulbous boiled blemmish.
A red infected wound for an ear.

It hurts to hear their testimony
Wittnessing you when you are without protection.

This is not embarrassment?
You are not embarrassed to be seen an ugly thing?

And no.
It just hurts.
And the pain callouses, making it more ugly.
Until we got to where we are.

Indestructible in all this broken.
Untouchable from all this infection.
Unlovable from all this attention.

A greiving suit of armor