Feb 2011
Super Super, why you look so down? Super Super.
Super Super, you can fight jets, Super Super,
With your battle axe of a housewife’s civic duty to her husband made of the dust collected from under your Victorian couch. Super Super.
Super Super, it was just last week when I saw you shine at your dinner party, your masquerade of fine dining wine, needy guests that **** your humanity out of your frail bones with dramatic recollections and vanity.
And yet, I ask again Super Super, why you look so down?
The sun’s a shining today, beams of radiating crisp, clean dreams for your bubbly, day-dreaming delight.
The earth’s a spinnin’ for you, rotating. The ebb and flow of life seeping from everyone’s front door is enough to bring real tears to your eyes, Super Super.
Oh! Super Super, tell us of your upbringing, of your life. Tell us how exactly it is that you became someone’s wife! Oh, and tell us about the time you strangled your mother… With filthy, worn out pantyhose that you found in the gutter.
Oh, Super Super.
Super Super, I know it’s rude to stare but I need to see your truth.
I need to see your Freudian slips and how your blood drips, do you bleed like me?
Now, Super Super, don’t be alarmed. You know that curiosity killed that cat, which technically means that the cat killed itself, right? SUPER Super. What exactly does it mean to live in your never-been-worn looking shoes, expensive clothes and chemically altered body? Do you find comfort in the little things? Super Super.
Super Super, why do you look so ******* sad?
There are far worse things to be than a suppressed housewife.
isn’t that just super, Super?
Super Super, you can fight jets, Super Super,
With your battle axe of a housewife’s civic duty to her husband made of the dust collected from under your Victorian couch. Super Super.
Super Super, it was just last week when I saw you shine at your dinner party, your masquerade of fine dining wine, needy guests that **** your humanity out of your frail bones with dramatic recollections and vanity.
And yet, I ask again Super Super, why you look so down?
The sun’s a shining today, beams of radiating crisp, clean dreams for your bubbly, day-dreaming delight.
The earth’s a spinnin’ for you, rotating. The ebb and flow of life seeping from everyone’s front door is enough to bring real tears to your eyes, Super Super.
Oh! Super Super, tell us of your upbringing, of your life. Tell us how exactly it is that you became someone’s wife! Oh, and tell us about the time you strangled your mother… With filthy, worn out pantyhose that you found in the gutter.
Oh, Super Super.
Super Super, I know it’s rude to stare but I need to see your truth.
I need to see your Freudian slips and how your blood drips, do you bleed like me?
Now, Super Super, don’t be alarmed. You know that curiosity killed that cat, which technically means that the cat killed itself, right? SUPER Super. What exactly does it mean to live in your never-been-worn looking shoes, expensive clothes and chemically altered body? Do you find comfort in the little things? Super Super.
Super Super, why do you look so ******* sad?
There are far worse things to be than a suppressed housewife.
isn’t that just super, Super?
