They use to say I love you.
I hope no one ever hurts you.
They'd just met, but it was love.
Right?
Well the doll was never loved, but this had to be it.
She was happy.
Right?
She'd never felt happiness before though, so this had to be it.
She was a good doll.
Right?
She'd always try to help...
She wanted to wipe the tears of the hurt. She'd put them before her.
They were her best friend.
Right?
Or maybe that's just what she would tell herself...
Stop. Don’t question yourself!
She wanted to be good and happy and loved.
I just want to be happy
So even though something was wrong it was ok.
R i g h t ?


W r o n g .
Sometimes you can be used to much... ya know?
She still felt empty.
But that's normal, right?
She's a doll.
They don't have feelings.
Right?
Wrong.
She's cracking. Again. It's not working. This isn't happy. The twinkle in her eyes dimmed.
She is crumbling bit by bit.
I told you. Haha.
Reality hit her with a blow to the face

I LoVe YoU, Doll.
I hope no   one ever hurts you.

I’ve been pulled
and pushed around
all my life

Like a rag doll 

And it has ended up

Where I am just
going with the wind

Push me away

Pull me back
close

Mess me around

I dont care anymore

I’ve gotten used to

Being used

I will not show it
Just yet
It is not ready
To be framed
Just yet
A work in progress
It is still a mess
She is fast
She peeks at it
Beams
And holds it
It is perfect as it is
Unnecessary to polish it
Because
It is already
Beautifully completed
Right now,

Unfinished.

Why do you wear
your guns back to front
in the holsters?
Helen asked me

as we walked
the bomb site
by Meadow Row
I saw this cowboy

in a film
at the cinema
have his like this
and you cross

your hands over
and get your guns
isn't it slower
that way?

she asked
no it's speed that matters
not how
you wear your guns

I said
I showed her
how quick I was
and she stood bemused

clutching her doll
Battered Betty
tightly to her chest
haven't you got

caps in your guns
to make them
sound real?
she asked

no I ran out
and anyway
I can make
the sound myself

by going
BANG BANG
she jumped away
holding Battered Betty

to her chest
you could have told me
you were going
to make that loud

banging noise
Betty got frightened
I looked at her
tightly woven plaits

of hair
and thick lens glasses
and her small hands
holding the doll

sorry Betty
I said
patting the doll's head
I put the guns away

and we walked
to the New Kent Road
and along
under the railway bridge

and by the Trocadero cinema
gazing at the billboards
and small pictures
of films

being shown
you can come
with me here
on Saturday

I said
they've got
a good cowboy film
showing

haven't any money
for the cinema
Mum said
she can't afford it

Helen said
my old man'll
cough up some money
if I ask

I said
she looked at me
Mum'll let me go
if you ask her

Helen said
ok let's go
ask her now
I said

so we walked
to Helen's house
and I told her
about how I practised

drawing my guns
everyday
she looked at Betty
but whether

she was listening
to me
or not
I couldn't say.

You carve a doll out of wax and curse it with voodoo.
Candles in the sun burn with her soft skin.
Oh, she is hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
But you don't want them to know-
the pleasure of watching her melt.
You think she was stolen
and passed around,
so you stick nails in her heart.
Pity takes your soul and the bit of it
you put into her hole.
Plugged with metal against your wall.
Hold a lighter to her chest.
Bleed her out.
Keep her hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
Don't leave your toys out again.
Practice voodoo every day.
You imagine
her nose growing,
her eye glowing
with malice.
Hold the lighter to her face.
She's lost her head.
She still has lovely legs
part them to taste fear.
Don't want her to run away.
Hold the lighter to her feet.
Her tummy rumbles
with lust.
Silence it.
Leave her hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
Voodoo master
but what good are you?
You own nothing but wax puddles.

You take me out,
and pull my strings,
and for you, I do a bunch of things,

when you get bored you lock me up,
with the rest of your things, like your old firetruck.
I'm all alone
in this box
my home
and I want to be free
I want someone with me.

I want to be taken out
my happiest time, no doubt,
playing,
laughing at my antics,
it sure beats that box, and all its Lego bricks

take me with you wherever you go
and know
through it all
I'll be there when you fall
because
your my owner
and I'm your doll.

You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.

there's a coldness in her eyes
mystery in her smile
death in the way she moves