No, you're wrong.

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

Particularly at lunch
in a laughing restaurant

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

And they are moved
by their own beauty

And they shed tears for it
in the back of the taxi home

Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight.
He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.
I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.
He said to tell you he was fine,
Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks,
The crap you have to fight.
You're sometimes nothing but a walking *******.

I was well acquainted with the pong myself,
I told him, and I counselled calm.
Don't let the ******* get you down,
Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes,
Go on the town, burn someone to death,
Find another ****, giver her some hammer,
Live while you're young, until it palls,
Kick the first blind man you meet in the *****.

Anyway he'll call again.

I'll be back in time for tea.

Your loving mother.

Call us enigma, origonal sin
we set fire to paper birds
and waste paper bins
and play snakes and ladders as
prima donna sings
the coils from the serpents
and the feathers from the wings.
Call us the paradox
apostle carries lies
Seraphim in hell
and Lucifer denied,
cold moods which withdraw
granting all who retried
the listless of love
Unrequited, redefined.

I just don't want you here anymore
and it is my fault you are back.
You left like I was nothing.
And it is my fault you are back.
I can't. I can't. I can't anymore.
You think it's funny when I say I can't.
But what I mean is, I can't.
I can take you, physically.
Physically, I am numb to you now.
My heart still aches.
My brain still aches. You make me ache in every way.
Please don't go.
Please don't go away.
Please don't go away again.
I want you gone.
I want you erased.
I want you.
I want you gone.

squirrels and opossums and birds of paradise
because im screaming
profanity into the trees
they can hear me scratching my sores
flaking scabs onto the crumbly floor
to integrate myself with the remains
of generations past
they can all hear me
crack the first beer of the morning
and pour it out for my love
no longer here
they can hear me all
repeat myself and pace
atop the pecan shells crunching
but the cap of the bottle spins
whirling around its rings
for a glug
and they all scutter, scamper, and waggle off
only proving my point
a terrible mood to be around

Psychobabble in progress. Waiting for the flow......

Slow and steady but I feel like a hurricane.
In order to express I have to dig,
so much under my walls with such itty-bitty living space.
I catch my subconscious thinking inspiration is a race.
Though, that frame of mind is hard to avoid in such a place.
And ostentatious race, needing metaphorical mace.
So many wolves, it's hard to know what's looking for love and what's looking to feed.

I don't understand the part of me that gets so completely chaotic whenever I try to let someone in. I tell myself it's because there's no new found security in our relationship yet but part of me knows it'll still be there once we get past it (this time I really feel like we will). I don't want to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. There's an indescribable feeling of chaos, it's beautiful, but it's still chaos. I beat myself up for acting so clammy. So much warmth under an ice cold exterior. It's so frustrating, there's walls not even I can penetrate sometimes. My own scar tissue has a lot more control over me than I thought. I'm almost there, I'm ready for it. There's just something about not having a firm foundation to stand on quite yet that kind of makes me feel like a fish out of water at times.Today I'm fluctuating between feeling beautiful and like totally chaos. I just hope he's patient when dealing with such delicate merchandise.

I have a tendency to forget that others are just as vulnerable as myself.