At the apex of the Empire State Building
Beneath a resilient misty gray sky,
A perfectly dreary day to die
She's at her lowest low
In heeled shoes a mile high,
Youthful skin, but nothing behind dead hazel eyes,
Rose red lips which never spoke their mind,
A purse full of pills she'd rather leave behind
Beneath rich chocolate curls,
Helena's madness quietly unfurls
Her courage to jump, her fear of death
Weighing the outcome of future incomes
Against the agony of piling debts
She came down from her delusional high
When daddy's substitute for love called money ran bone dry
With the sky the limit, her mind is trapped
By the lie they told Helena as her life was mapped
Line by line they fed her from birth:
"A scholarly piece of paper and a lovely figure will define your worth
Choose wisely little princess, or your life will be hell on Earth"
Turning her back to the street below
Her courage to end it begins to grow
She closes her empty hazel eyes
Cranes her neck towards the sky
And whispers "Death do you hear me? No longer am I shy"
In her delusion she heeded Death's reply
"Come now dear angel, let's see you fly"
A rush of adrenaline was met with demise
Now nourishment for the maggots and the flies
Antidepressants mimicked the body of their owner,
Fractured bottles, tops open, pills strewn all over
Beautiful bones shattered against the pavement
Released she was, from her own mental enslavement
Trickling down the drain, carried by unrelenting rain
Into a New York sewer towards the darkness below,
A bright crimson flow
Quenches the thirst of a starving rat king
Entangled in thirteen tails as he lay dying
Grateful is the king to Helena's sacrifice
For he is trapped in this sewer and awaits his own demise
A glimpse he tasted from the world above
Bitter-sweet is the blood of a girl without love

Maybe if the noose around your neck wouldn't cinch so tight, when you deliberately wander off the path that has been chosen for you; maybe if you wouldn't perish, the day you lay your back on; maybe if your certificates and other materials gatherings weren't made your only primal instincts; maybe when you'd be treated with the same reverence as the man landing his foot on the moon, for he was only doing his job; Maybe if we the rats were friends for once not foes, this world would have been much better than this false pretense.

Maybe on that day you'll appreciate the happiness of true freedom!

quietly observing the area within sight
surrounded by the stench of the dumpsters
hearing squeaking sounds in the night
its keen eyes swiveled to pinpoint the noise
in the distance it spots its target
climbing over a spilled garbage bag
the ragged mouse was starving yet
working so hard to sniff out anything
edible which could be its next meal
being quick on its feet it realized it
was being watched so it ran so fast
to get away from what it saw as
its enemy the greedy rat

Today I saw the moon and fell asleep
When I woke, I found myself in the ocean, very deep
I swim above and walk myself to home
Filled the tub and washed myself with foam
Then I changed the sheets so I can sleep on fresh
I’ll clean tomorrow and it won’t smell of flesh
My dream is dreamless, it’s quiet tonight
Until I feel something next to me, it’s little and it’s white
A rat
So small and fat
I’ll call it Cheff
It’ll be my BFF
We’ll fly together in the house
Like ghosts, me and the mouse

To answer your question, it could be I stopped believing
years ago when I sent my friend before the chopping block.
Stop! I'll sell information for passage.
Stop! I'm scared to death of dying.
Where she lives.
Such a shame.
Where she hangs.
I'll take the blame.
Where she showers, even.
Stop! I'll give you the words you want if you make this hurting stop.
Stop! You don't have to crack my brain open with a hammer chop,
you don't have to use pliers to pry what you want from my head,
when you can listen to me talk freely, then take the message and run.
Where she lives.
Such a shame.
Where she hangs.
I'll take the blame.
So much will change.
Where she showers, even.

But if you call for me, I'll be there.
Wearing a straight face that's
driven me here, so insane, I don't
care how rapidly my conscience
eats the very strength on which
I stand. I'm alive without the will to live.
But if you call for me, I'll  be there.
Wearing a straight face.

Life’s an awful rat race,
and it’s getting trickier and trickier,
so forget the woes you can’t face,
and do nothing in particular.

When life starts getting real tough,
relax from the perpendicular,
lay back and kick your shoes off,
and do nothing in particular.

Oh what of the demon cat
Foul tauntress in my sight
Whose reputation for ratting
Far exceeds her deeds this night

Far more likely she, to play
Than upon that one to pounce
She tolerates the evil rat
Within this very house

25Apr2002

I’m full of
mice and men
of this world.

Rats thrive in the sewers
of men who are mice
and soon mice in a trap.

But I wiggle myself free
and head up the darkened stairs
with the vermin.

I’m not afraid, maybe a little nervous

it’s getting darker
and those footsteps above
keep sounding
like they may be descending.

I wonder what will happen
in the dark of my back stairs tonight?

My senses tingle
like a mouse.