Stories

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(Images of poor people torn and frayed)

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We used to scratch our initials onto our school desks but now we scratch it on our skin

Because the desk is property and has value but our bodies do not

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Have you ever met anyone as real as lady gaga?

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He reached for his child but she wasn't there

(Neither was he)

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Neither are you neither am I

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Face death

(For real this time)

Hurt

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(Possibly)

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We scan our inner mind

We wonder about wondering

We wonder at the brazen impunity

Of the evil done

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Hurt?

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Dead child here
Dead child there

dead ***** in our underwear

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I LOVE YOU ANGELINA JOLIE!

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Obama mama!
Obama mama!

Obama mama!

Obama-.(he)-care

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AND OTHER FANTACIES

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In free moments I see you everywhere!

Creating visions born from love and gentle prosperity

As if it all was real

And we were real

And really here

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Names written in sand or flayed and mutilated flesh

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I LOVE YOU

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Hurt

--

In  a moment free we live

the girl in room five fifteen
the royal roach motel
sitting with her box of crackers
in the setting sun
most of the time shes focused on the path
to the next drama free dream
but tonight shes putting on that red dress
and fixing up a confused face to put on
and picking up the keys to the kingdom
she strolls out the door
and up on  the avenue
shes a smile to thouse she endears
shes a shadow to thouse who dont
remember the first lesson of the road
you cant succeed till you have utterly failed
so i play her a soft song cause i know it must hurt
to be on that bitter betrayal with no way home
she toils into the night hunched over the table
to create a boxer to fight her demons for her
she makes him out of cardboard
and pictures pasted from magazines
but she is quick to judge
and kicks him out before he can say a word
so he sits quietly at the greyhound station
and crumbles slowly into his pretend memories
the girl in fife fifteen
royal roach motel
up on colorado boulevard
eating her crackers in the setting sun
waiting for her prince to rescue her
but he caught a train
and now hes in the california mountains
trying to be a better hippy
she knows she has nothing left but
the crackers
and the setting sun
i think thats a terrible way to live
but im not the one looking for perfection
in the baubles from the gutters
of colfax avenue
so glad left all that misery behind
goodnight my spanish bride of the winter
fare thee well
hope you find your kingdom

Ink and paper are magic
If left to sit
for ages upon ages
They become unquestionable truth