I got a new tattoo today,
Of a cat peering round a corner
That Sylvia Plath herself once drew.

It was printed out and traced around
And then put on my arm
Up tight against my skin,
Where the blue ink could leave it's picture.

I sat on a stool with my arm outstretched
And he followed the trace around
With a needle dipped in black.
There was sharp pain
And tingles
And my arm started to go dead as he leaned on it.

He wore a sailor hat over his dark hair,
Tattoos up and down his arms,
Is that a tattoo of an oven?
Yes.
And we talked about old comics,
How they all started as horrors,
Penny gruesomes they used to be.

The ink was injected beneath my skin,
So that i could how onto Sylvia's drawing,
for the rest of life.
SP, it's signed with.

Guess I'm a literary type.

My friend asked me
"What would you have done if she'd gone?"
I sighed, played with my food for a second, and then sighed again.
"Rachel, what would you have done? Would you **** yourself as well?"
I looked up at her from my plate and the tears started flowing.
"I don't think I'd be able to live anymore, with that guilt, with the pain. I feel like life wouldn't go on without her here."

She sighed and told me she wouldn't have the guts to do the same.
I told her I think I wouldn't have the courage at first, but then I'd
Live with the pain too long and
Finally just *crack.

New York, Tel Aviv, Moscow, London, Netanya,
Bali, Istanbul, Riyadh, Beslan, Nisanit, Dublin
Londonderry, Glasgow, Manchester,
Spin Boldak (district), Kuta
Kano, Baghdad, Kandahar
Mumbai, Karballa, Boston

All for God, the almighty
God, the inhumanity in his name
God, the creator

I am weeping for the latest terror victims
141 injured in Boston
3 dead in Boston

Jesus Saves...tell that to the dead

When will it end?

I have nothing....just tears, and an emptiness
Confusion

I leave you all with your prayers, for all of those lost
Over time, to terrorist attacks listed and not listed
I pray for the lost, the living and the future

I remain confident in mankind....

To set a goal and be "class clown"
Is not something good, I'm stating
I was the one who wrote his words
I was the "class clown in waiting"

A yard stick and a winter toque
A voyaguer I now was
To inherit a new character
As I aged, became a loss

Was bullying  the reason for
Hiding behind a mask
Or was it something deeper
That made me take this task

A true class clown has no regrets
Of what they say or do
Their only goal is laughter
And that they'll get from you

Attention seeking misfits
Not in my book, there was no way
You couldn't be a misfit
And say what they would say

A true "class clown"'s an artist
Knowing when to make a scene
Knowing when a situation
Needs a lift, or at least a lean

Voices with strange accents
Silly faces set the stage
You get the class all laughing
While the teacher fumes with rage

Move on from the "class clown" name
And pursue it with a crowd
Do you really crave attention?
Do you want the laughter loud?

Or were you starved for some attention
Something you never got at home
Were you troubled as a child
Did it cause your mind to roam?

Were you deficient in your memory?
Couldn't handle work at school?
Or did you really crave the laughter?
Because on stage you could be cool

I envy people who were clowns
There were many in my life
To just be free with who they were
To dance upon the knife

I never was the top banana
I was always second, on the side
I always worked well as the set-up
But I came along and rode the ride

"and you don't know what I look like,
when I'm not in love with you."

how true is that for me,
there are days I remember so clearly,
no dry eyes, wise guy,
but you and me i see what we were,
what I thought we'd become to be,
and other days I gaze out not understanding what it was that brought me there,
not understanding the who and was when I was with you,
how did i feel so complete when you were completely lacking,
im not talking about the things you warned me you were packing,
but what it was that ate at you,
dry bones,
and whiskey,
i don't know how you could have left me,
i supported the world you ran,
and i am just another atlas carrying around the boulder of a lost lover,
roll over.
turn over.
start over.
over and over,
these are the things that play strings on my heart beat,
and my hearts beating,
no thanks to you.
I'm left with mashed potato memories,
lines across my lips, of lies you left there for me.

I stand here at
The stove
I'm making your dinner but
All I can think about is
The loud whisper of death
Howling in my ears.
It's drumming through my brain
And
Screaming at my soul
die, just die already
I sigh
Knowing that it's right.

Why don't I just die already?

As You lay on me
I sigh
Cause
Even though playing with your hair
Is fun,
It's not enough.
I mean,
I desire to be with you
I mean,
be with you.
Not just talk to you and
Make silly jokes
But
To kiss your lips while you're laughing
And
To hold your hand while reading my favorite book.
To hear you sing even when you think you sound funny
And to tell you that you look beautiful over and over
Again.