The cat licks it's ***
While the mice run free
The menu music plays
For ratatouille on DVD
I’m to lazy to press play
I'd rather listen to django
And watch the cat lick it's ***
I wonder if any of the mice know how to cook if that's a
skill that can only be learned by rats

The menu loops again

Mother pulled the beat to hell diluted blood red minivan containing my brother and I into the darkened parking lot. The car couldn't park fast enough as my brother and I tore the creaky side door open and leapt onto the awaiting pavement. We stepped from darkness into light as we hopped onto a curb to be greeted by the brilliance of neon lights erected atop a single story rectangular building squatting at the top of the rectangular lot like a full measure rest. Glass windows as whole walls teased the treasures that lay before my eyes window-shopping like madmen I felt the objects of my covetry leap from their white shelves into my sweaty youthful grasp. Mother breezed forward, stepping across the tier confidant and disengaged; the front door rang announcing our presence. Two bells sounded: ring ring. The Rhines were here. Like a pistol shot signifying the start of a race, my brother and I scampered and scattered and scuttled like wild animals, scouring the shelves that sat dispersed through the gleaming room consuming with our eyes words that told stories with pictures that danced and sang. Clusters of shelves huddled together under several flat signs hung by frail strings dangling from the ceiling displaying themes that told me where to avoid "Romance" and where to find my beloved "Science Fiction." I halted, realizing almost as if there were indentations within the itchy carpet that had alerted me to the place where I had cemented by ruddy feet countless times before. I took my roving eyes from the stalling ground to peer up into the shelves that loomed over me like giants, arching over my head like holy stones erected atop holy celebratory sites of yore. My fingers traced along the shelves trailing over the innumerate plastic spines that encased my bountiful riches; I mouthed the vibrant words imprinted like cattle on each of them and sang to myself stories that spawned off of each one before finding the paragon that most expertly weaved JR the Raconteur into its fabrications. I bore into its dazzling shell hungrily, gobbling up faces and places and names and dates I spun it over to its backside to read plots to read histories to read legacies to read memories I read and read and saw and saw my mind was never more alive with the astounding conception of limitless potentialities my night was just getting started and with my final selection--and mother's blessing--I would march home victoriously wielding my fortune, my medium for which the pictures in my mind would transpose and dance before me like luminous sprites on the brilliant splendor of a luminescent two dimensional stage that is the television screen. It was the weekend getaway I waited for with anticipation every Saturday; I was an unversed monk relishing in the ancient libraries of History.

My body is like a destroyed DVD,
Scratched up from all the lies and pain brought by two humans I’ve trusted for the last 14 years.

Like a deep scarred disc,
My life stops, (Pause)
sk-k-kips (act like i’m stuttering) over the years I call scenes, I want to forget.

As time ticks by,
more scenes from my life are erased from sharp things like knives and lies.

scene 1: Daddy quits drinking, mommy starts smoking again.

scene 2: We move to Maine to be close to grampy and grammy, they said maybe they can help mommy slow down the amount of gray clouds released from her mouth.

scene 3: Mommy and daddy kiss each other like the people in the movies, its kinda gross

scene 4: We move again cause daddy says his hands make holes in the walls bigger than elephants. and I know that is big.

scene 5: I start Kindergarten, daddy is holding my hand tighter than a gorilla. it sort of hurts but I won’t say anything.

scene 6: I call my teacher mom, maybe cause mrs.roberts has asked me more questions about how my day than the person that used to make supper for us.

scene 7: Mommy starts swallowing these ovally things so she can feel better and not yell at daddy anymore

scene 8: I have to start taking the pills with mommy cause apparently being myself isn’t good enough for her.
[Pause again]
scene 9: mommy is pulling more cigarettes out of the white box than I can even count

scene 9: my daddy wakes me up with bottles that are brown and shaped like the ones on t.v. breaking on the floor cause he isn’t supposed to be drinking that kind of “juice”

scene 10: My mom says she is going away for a while but never says when she’ll be back.

Scene 10: I’m not inhaling the black smoke she blew in my face filled with elements that I discovered called Lies and pain.

Scene 11: Mom comes back like winter, cold hearted and only for a few months

[Pause for audience]

scene 12: Dad locks Mom and I out of the house

scene 12: Mom leaves me at the house so I have to sleep outside

scene 12: Mom is moving 5 states south, the same direction my life is going.

(Slow down)
Scene 15: I get caught finding a way to release all the pain onto my wrists with knives cause my dad is using the same knives to open bottles like a sailor.

Scene 15: I haven’t seen mom in 3 years

Scene 15: I blame myself for dad drinking again

Scene 16: Mom says she loves her boyfriend more than her own 3 children

scene 16: My 12 year old brother is told to **** himself

scene 16: nobody cares

Scene 16: (Slow down) My dad asks why I want to skip over the scenes 13-14
[pause]
“Dad life is to short to reminisce all the bad things.”
Even now I still make scars on the left side of my brain as if I’m going back in time from the Iphone 6 to the 1st Iphone getting thicker and thicker

Scene 16: My dad pays for pills that try to fade the scars on my dvd.