imagine she is as thin as a doe
glassy eyes like a dead bird
it is not here that you will kiss her,
but here, tomorrow
what is a place but a time?
do not glower at me, my lord,
i have given my soul to you.
it is quiet, even when we make allowances for
pain.
imagine she is as thin as a doe
glassy eyes like a dead bird
skin not pallid, but pallor;
pink veins and lips full to taste your sinew
an embrace allusive of sublime ruptures
sallow eyes and face,
she growls at you, a low tremor

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. it was a pyrrhic love, it was a herculean love. how the new life will begin i do not know,
but i know it will come from the lovers,
the loverly trees sprung forth at my
birth.
i can't comb out my eyelashes,
i cannot comb these lice out of my eyelashes
i wish i did not have lice
please give me an excuse not to change my sheets
i miss the girl in my bed
i wish i did not have lice
just say something back to me

it is so strange to see a shadow
it is so strange to swim in a pool of chainsaws, and
mirrors
i can't get out, it doesn't hurt but i can't get out
tie me up in a bow
in a beau
is this what we're doing now?
yeah
again

alva, my sleepy girl
you're not pretty
i wish you were.
you're going to die
i wish you didn't have to die but i wrote it.
you'll lose your baby
he'll get beaten but he was a real girl and he felt a real love
a real love, flowers growing, lip gloss dripping
a real love is what i need, a real love is what i need,
a boy like fay who can listen to me sing
boy who is sleepy
likes to bite my lip
id do anything if he asked
but anyway, you're going to die and i thought
to let you know heaven is white, but you see everything, because you see with your heart too
you can see the poppies
you can see fay
im on a kick again, just ignore me, baby

ears pop, boys laugh
you look nice in pink
look nice in my head, in the sky, in
the pool
im a ****** and you know,
you know and we talk about
***. we talk about making
war
which is funny because i still can't walk

look at me,
all day
never blink, thinking about
me
how nice do i look in pink? in your head, in the
pool. in the sky.
im just a kid and you know
you pick me up by my neck and pin me against the wall and i laugh because you don't know that i still do not know how to walk

how beautiful, her eyes, as she walked unto me;
it is not yet the last day of spring.
the orchid screams
so benevolent. so
violent
it is not yet the last
day of spring.
scream for catharsis
scream for closure
sing for sweet release
even when i sleep, it clicks,
singing for sweet orchids. i
am always somewhere nice. i
click, click, click, last day of the
spring

we moved when i was young
maybe it was because of john wayne gacy
he might as well have been my uncle,
he was in the town after so many years
in the town even after we burned his paintings
sky's yellow still, stomach acid from all the boys
so pretty and vibrant after the rain
so pretty and vibrant on the white crosses
nixon thinks so, too, im not alone
he ran a cemetery in the town
wish i were buried there, next to beverly marsh
in the town where i grew up, in the land of flowers blooming for me