his hobbies include
                          invisible girls
                     bubble wrapped
              shielding their eyes from the sun
                        up the side of his mountain
holding fast to the cable
                                  and the eventual terror of drawing
                     paper moons
                         framed a bit too
                                                   insular
                                                   binocular
                                                   funicular
                                                   vermicular
                         these out of sightlines
                                    opaque and cobwebbed
                               screening off
                       his ***** little secrets

Wrap my wrists in silver
And see what I do.
I saw the girl and shot her;
You want me to shoot you too?

Throw on the jacket,
Surround me in white,
I'm still going to escape it.
So come and join the fight.

Her body rots at this time
Her wheel chair is empty, left behind
Rain outside rids the proof
of the crime that's been committed and witnessed by the moon

A life has been lost
yet it does not matter
At bottom humans give birth
quicker than ******

Gently down the stream
is where blood was spilled
Her final resting place
Oh mother you must be thrilled

is it my fault,
that that’s what you grew up to be?
did we play too much army?
let you touch too much of me?
we were only seven darling,
always down the street running,
did you ever know?
of your daddy screaming
our buddy bleeding
your mommy’s drinking
of our glasses shattering?
or were you blind like me, too?
was there something i could have done, if my eyes were open too?

A tavern built on misdeeds and insurrection,
House of rascals, whisky and imperfection
A hideaway for rebels and racketeers,
Where drinks are served to outlaws and mutineers,
Where the pianist plays for pirates and privateers,
Where the wicked and the wayward can be served,
And are respected however undeserved.

It’s a rag-tag bunch of outlaws and anarchists,
A cavalcade of rough revolutionists,
So come on in my dear insurrectionist,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

Come and join our banished battalion,
Join our cause, oh revered rapscallion,
So calling out to nature’s abominations,
We’ve got bourbon, bombshells and indignation,
Come and wait for imminent and sure damnation,
No matter what your deviance may be,
Come and join the drunken reverie.

It’s a monument to lost souls and deviants,
A shrine to every small disobedience,
A riotous, cathartic experience,
Where radicals are safe from reprimand,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

Welcome back, my worshipped renegade,
To the place where freedom’s sweet as lemonade,
Where skanks and outlaws, sing so intoxicated,
The anthem of the unkempt and agitated,
The mantra of the evil and of the hated,
Laughing as they sing their merry tune,
Unified by their impending doom.

It’s a testament to chaos and anarchy,
A haven for the worst of humanity,
A house of lawlessness and profanity,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

She didn’t do it
I scream I scream
She couldn’t have done it
What do you mean

They show me the pictures
The pictures of her
They are the pictures
Of her in her fur

She’s a fashionable girl
They say to my cries
Must have gotten it from you
But the pictures are lies

I refuse to believe
Believe that she did it
There’s no **** way
They wait outside a bit

They’re wrong so so wrong
She’s not a murderer, doesn’t even own a ****
No she’s not the criminal in this family
I’ll prove them wrong, prove it was me

The kitchen drawer opens, no time to smile
I walk past the table, walk past the file
I slit the knife across
No apologies; it’s their loss