*******! I hate you!

She screams inside her head

as she's rolled over away from the demon in her bed

She can't remember how she ever loved him so much

Now her skin crawls at his slightest touch

She can take no more

She's so upset

She can cry  no more tears because she has none left

She quietly slips off their marriage bed and tiptoes
down the stairs

She looks for the gun in her locked box and finds it there

She puts a bottle of gas and matches in her pocket

The  box is rehidden after she locks it

She ascends the stairs and enters the room

The pistol discharges with aloud boom

Blood soaks the pillow

He's still and dead

She unloads another round into his head
He's  ****** and lifeless

But she's not done yet

She's gonna burn this demon till there's nothing
left

A lit match ignites his corpse from his head to his feet

She covers her eyes and stands back from the heat

She stares at the charred mess that she used
to call her man

Then she raises the pistol still in her left hand

Her greatest love has become her greatest hate

She closes her eyes

Pulls the trigger...

And escapes

the goddess deadlocked sweetly
her pale eyes pierce my soul
with the words i hear in her face
reproach me for laying loves upon the alter
of her freedoms
she lifts one delicate hand
signify
but it is her warm hand that catches my eye
for i know within that strength
within that tender caress of a woman's gentle forgiveness
i could find redemption
tears break upon my face like waves
as i struggle to find the words to sway her
this dreadlock princess goddess woman
lifts one hand
signify
her swift eye
and pale thin lips do shine far too brightly
the goddess deadlocked sweetly
please forgive me

this maligned soul
speechlessly awaits with lips bound
by butter soft feelings
forever melting on the tip of tongue
with its lies and doubts forever right
there graphic and visceral in minds eye
having reached the edge between this and all other human beings
she asks from the other side how it feels
asks if it would be all right to venture
my emptiness finds no objection
just objectification
pant and release the guttural sounds
where they seem to be heard
wish  it was more
but its just empty push push push push
i cant  feel anything
should that make me sad
she asks how that makes me feel
i just look out at her perfections and softness wares
with a maze of questions
and a thousand lies
to cover the obscenely unclad
to remove the dried stain
in my eyes
don't touch me
don't touch me

its a daily bread
wolf it down with your daily grin and bear it softdrink
talk out the night till  you are a sleepyhead
and you mix and match your yawns with frowns
you carve it all out in your journal
little doodles illustrate the page
stick figure men battle
stick figure women try to look ****
and the bird flys free on a paper sky
the bird flys free
like the hopes that this will someway be you
in some incarnation of your
ever changing life spectacle
your ever changing detox from her poison pen tongue
be a bird who flys free on a paper sky
high above the noisesome stickmen
and such dire devils of nervous hands
twitch and fumble through compulsive motions
draw to keep the hand from being idle
draw to keep the mind flowing
and the bird breaks free
of the paper sky
and floats free in a realistic appearing world
in your sleepyhead dreams
paper birds deserve to be free too
just like you and i

leather skinned harlots
in their pre-washed jeans
and make with sticky fingers the shiny jewels
and the keys to proverbial kingdoms
but nobody notices
everybody is too busy celebrating the
return of the same old same old
and her ten trick pony
shes a fire in the ***** of many a man
good thing most of them take medications for it
but she is as hard to cure as her burning desires

the happy girls are neatly dressed
perfumed and powdered in evening dresses
nothing it would seem can get in the way
of tonight's entertainment
song and dance numbers performed with zeal
and more than a touch of class by some famous actor
who name has faded away
but his dreams are still alive
up there in bright lights on the marquee
all he wants is that second chance
like lightening striking a third time

the townsfolk all gather there at the edge of the stage
to see the show and cheer on his rise to stardom
everyone except the girl with the rose tattoo
she was still at the bar trying to drowned her sorrows
in whiskey and spilled tears
her and her pony had enough of this town
but they had no place else to go
aint much room in the world for someone like her
the same old same old is hard way to live
she tries to smile but it comes out shouts of misery
her pony nudges her arm and looks to the east and the rising sun
time to go but she dosn't care
shes got a few tricks of her own
shes gonna marry the actor
squeeze out a few ankle-biters and get the picket fence
to put around the little brats
keep em in check

seems like every time you turn around
there is somebody trying to one up you
the new girl in town has a mechanical pony
and comes with a text book on std's of the soul
she will make alot of men happy someday
but not today
today they all have leather skinned harlots

You should’ve seen
us in the steam,
I had you lifted,
impaled,
back against the wall,
riding me methodical
with long hard deliberate strokes,
I shot you ***** deep,
kissed your heaving granite-tips
& our loving-mix streamed
down the drain
in torrents.

It was extra cold this winter,
continuous ice floes
danced on top of the swirling rapids
near Munson's Creek.

As the stars disappeared,
the sun cracked
the eastern horizon,
I had been out all night
setting the extra traps.

My camp was set earlier this year,
near the largest dam of the
big-toothed water-creatures,
I hoped to trap
me some bigger beavers
this time around.

The pelt harvest was quite significant
in last year’s haul, but now
the boys down at Johnson’s Mercantile
had placed an order for twenty-five more.
I planned to make my quota
before the spring thaw.

I was getting lonelier than hell
in this frozen wasteland.
I really missed my darling Mae,
if she only knew how blue I was.
My dog was getting homesick too.

Unfortunately, I suffer
From a perpetual desire to lean
Towards you when you're most unaware
And silence your lips with my own.

I'm afraid I selfishly cover you in kisses,
In an action of petty mortality.
As a fool with a view of the stage.

And yet what's worse, I fear you are
Entirely to blame.
You see had you not been so perfectly flawed
I could have resisted.
And lived a life so blissfully mundane,
That I might remember
Not to drink on Sundays
Not to laugh too loud
Or stare too delightedly.

But the world is not kind in that way.