Oh gee,
me and this bad posture

I am the hunchback
of Not Enough Food
stuffing my face silly
with seasoned truffle fries;
the grease coats my lips,
and I lick each fingertip,
one by one,
like lighting matchsticks

It's been a while,--

When others are out,
swimming in the latest fashions,
drowning in the recent gossip,
singing the popular tunes;

I people watch and people
watch and people watch
until my belly is full

I over hear a man who
spent his vacation in Rome
hungover; 'two weeks,
I stared at my feet, and
for two weeks
I got no sleep!'

Crunch, soft
like a child's toes
in my mouth

Crunch, hard
like my bones,
is the perfect sound

Oh, gosh
I don't think I
ever want to stop;

A chicken tender
is enough to surrender
my dear old aches away
for good

If you ever seen ugly,
you've never seen ugly

If it doesn't fit in your hand,
why strain yourself
with disfigurement?

Your eyes are
picture perfect;
capable of
precise precision

Disillusionment knows
no boundaries

And so,
onward
we march
as stagnant
as ides of March

consumed by the
ideals of the our times

If you've never
had love, it wasn't much
but two hand touch;

yes, it was rough, and at first
it wasn't enough,
but now that you've
lost it all,

a bowl of cereal in
the morning
is another lonely
nail in the coffin

Don't you think I could use
a little help over here?

Medic! Medic! Medic...?

A health pack
would keep me going,
but you think
because I look, act,
talk, and think like a
ten ton truck,

that I am one?

The strongest
ones in life
got that way
by being afraid
for their lives.

A little tender
love and care
goes a long way
for a grizzly bear;

A health pack
would be nice
right about now.

Not a fan of it, you say
It isn't me, or
I'm not into that
sort of thing*

Oh, honey
we're doing it all wrong
Our egos tie our limbs
to the bedposts; and the self,
the I,

stabs, pokes, and prods

until we lose ourselves
in it's warmth, like a gun
to our heads,

a bullet engraved with
the word Self

and we **** ourselves
every night;

every choice,
a measured note
in a song we can't
call our own

we'll sing out of tune
anyway,

the Western civilization

is a spiderweb of self
deceit

and the entire world
will know the power
of I

as it spreads like poison

through the veins.

I see what you did there...
We're all alone in this
it's quite a mess we've made
call it sin, guilt, a nightmare
with no name, a shadow
without a face; it lurks
behind the word abyss,
the loosely knit concept
of nothingness;

what great shade our bodies make

for the earth, it's plants and creatures

Tomorrow is on the tip of your tongue
and fate has seized your heart
torn it in two, handed one half
to the night, one half to the moon

and what of the sun, you ask

it's been inside you this entire time

As you wake, you stretch your arms
and mourn over a thousand yesterdays
with a yawn; and you bury it in
coffee beans and freshly baked
pastries; who you were
a day ago, is far more different
than who you are now;

it's a fool's errand
to think otherwise

And like fools
we shall love,
and drown ourselves
in tangible decisions;
such as long distance relationships,
baby making commitments,
and soul seething incisions

Let it all fall apart...*

I am between your legs

and I am of nothing,

and nothing is where I stay.

Tell me, darling

Whose name I've been chasing

After all these years I still don't know

who I am, and want to be

Are you the one for me?

The one of many; millions

upon millions of seeds

Only one had a chance

and some would say

that's luck;

How fortunate I am to be stuck

on this planet with no real

destiny; drifting like a ghost

through an empty building

I once called home,

is my perfect idea

of fate.

On the eve of Halloween
we took your aunt's car
out for a joyride;

You took us to
to a chicken chip
corner joint and
I ordered a small
box of chips;

But you insisted
I try the chicken
even though I told
you many times I was vegan.

It wasn't even a week
before you started finding
my interests funny, like
they were bad jokes
or something;

started poking
and prodding,
bullying me
into thinking
your thoughts;

forcing me to
feel your feelings.

We sat in the car,
ate our food,
you got crumbs on
the pleats of my skirt
(the perfect excuse
for your trespass).

'I'd love
for your tongue
to do laps around my ****'

was your way of
saying you never
wanted to see me again.

But we did meet again,
didn't we, Henry?

It was at the coroner's.

I was there to identify
your mutilated body.