If your ever lost
Just click your heels three times
**** still lost
They ****** lied

Last night was a weird night
When we went out of the light
I was drunk but I recall
You took me in your arms, so tall
And we kissed it was so strange
More than once it was French
I couldn't avoid you
Or maybe just didn't want to
Was it just the hard stuff
Or could it be a real crush
I think I need to admit
I don't know if I liked it

there's a marital dispute
between squirrels
in my chest, stomach and head.

she flings lamp and liver
while he slings obscenities
about her barrenness.

by midnight
they'll ****, then sleep
and then I can watch John Oliver.

but their problems aren't resolved.

When I was young
(or at least younger than I am today)
I had a dream that I was Spider-man.

I looked different though; a suit of mercurial qualities and blue that
-when hit by moonlight-
glowed ever white.

It was night,
yet the city was screaming,
and as I swung over a police station
I found Rhino wreaking chaos.

He saw me;
the challenge was clear.
As I landed on the pavement
he was already midcharge,
but
I
did
not
evade.

Instead,
I ran faster
than him,
and the force of the punch I threw
sent
him
flying;
I was going so fast
that every movement I made to strike
left after-images,
and Rhino just couldn't keep up.

*Poor Rhino.

Should I drive you from my mind?
Shall I stop my heart?
Or are you even close to me?
Do you play a special part?

I forget to think of you
When I am alone,
And I can't say I like to say
Our names in a loving tone.

I admire you, I know that,
But are you in my soul?
Have I even written your name?
Or imagined us on a stroll?

In fact, am I infatuated?
Or do I fancy it
So that my heart longs to feel,
And yet, it doesn't?

I don't know what I'd do
If you suddenly loved me,
And I don't know what I'd say
If your eyes began to see.

Perhaps my heart's run out of love--
Perhaps I am a yawn:
Too tired to think romantic things
And to friendship go beyond.

Finally, I have defeated
A meaningless urge:
The wish to be your only one,
Under tiredness submerged.

A Volkswagen sinks in tainted ink
The purple bunny’s been painted pink
The hare is teetering on the brink
Of broken limelight square.

He rings the thing; it starts to sing
A duckling, suckling ****, goes ping!
A nettle stings the bunny’s wing;
The duckling gets no share.

A shard apart that scarred the heart
Ripped out the one who passed the start
And darting past her cart, remarked
Upon her vacant stare.

A stare so vast that sticks and lasts;
She’s passed the post, she’s missed the mast,
What matters most: what’s passed is past,
Surrendered into air.

grass spinning by the window of the car
whipping round and round
round and round
far above my head.

a memory like an oil painting
the first time i saw evil
shining from someone's eyes
like a beacon.

running, packing, running
as the roof came crashing down
the insects gathered, parasitic
on the shell of their burnt-out home.

thirteen snails and i
making a journey
oblivious to how it would shape the course
of our lives.

they're blue eyes, not brown
you're wrong
how do you know?
my answer rocked the very sky.

crawling pathetically
dragging my exhausted self across the grey
like some kind of bizarre slow worm
a leech on my own house.

the swooping, the draining, the sepia walls
it was the fault of the beads, of course
of me, and of her
for giving them.

seeing her slumped on the floor
dressed in glass
with crimson make-up
shivering in my nightclothes
as the dogs howled behind.

he had fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows
and the evillest laugh i ever heard
his wife gave me a sink
and signalled to keep quiet.

soon i learned
not to trust items with censored details:
boarded-up windows, blacked-out vans and
chained-up rooms.

soon i learned
so many things

If all scars were purple
And all bruises red
And we could pour out
All the pain in our heads

If people were rabbits
And rabbits were dead
And all scars were purple
And all bruises red –

Would people be purple?
Would rabbits be dead?
Is it bruises that **** us,
Or scars to the head?

What is it that tortures us,
Leaves us all writhing?
What makes us stop living
And start just surviving?

What monster pursues us –
What ghastly condition?
The one deep within us;
The sick apparition.

This torturous bubble
From deep in our heart
Wells up, overwhelms us
And tears us apart.

If you saw my face you would laugh.

And what a nightmare you would have.

Look me in the eyes, you would cry.

Cuz baby I'm a devil in disguise.