a pounding howl on the bedspread
hell is sober but i am the opposite
facebook.com/this-what-i-want-people-to-think-of-me

my heart is red writhing pink slime
sun mother trust
black god figure head pulsing
for many years sinking into pink slime blood flood writhing
look today my eyes look livid lucid green
three headed dragon of envy beckons

i live in a guilt home built by my grandfather 457 years ago
37 years ago
born deaf and dumb writhing
old children howling at the sun mother trusting

takes too long to say goodbye
my pink soul pining
feeling for a door ****
listening for the turn of a door ****
i love you forever i think
look at my words gloat
listen to my words gloat

float to the sky past the trusting
sun mother gods head gushing
pink slime lusting
red leaves rustling
serpent tongue spitting
me eyes
my ears
and my arms

a ways to go right?
the dead light from a million dead stars?
feels that way at least
feel like i am icarus
feels like i want red white and black
heart pink
soul gone
things long
say sleep
please say sleep

place the sky in a box and hope for an easy end
sun mother truth trust lost
sun mother trust truth lost

because you snooped around my drawers
ive snooped in yours
im not color blind but ive never seen blue
i saw red once didnt care for it
remember the time you said you though you saw a ghost
a great pull
you wanted to die

burning boys who lived in water
wind and heat licked me raw
we sit big beneath little hands with loose skin
you lose people when you cant lie good
can you hear my thoughts?
No that's alright i believe you

pink slime river rising
when i die smoke my bones
color me the color of silence and smoke my dry bones
metal face does not rust

one is used to dance
one is used to run
to push very very far away
2 whole years pining
pushing people very very far away

leave hair in my sink please
surrounded by tall walls
chrismas is purple
so im told
i wouldnt know

color blind pink slime writhing
she's there
shes there right now
a ghost isn't a window
a ghost is a door
dust in my eye
my ears
my arms
bring me some fast feet

how many times did you open that door?
how many times did you leave it open?
open stars
brain hard
a boy wonders
peace died

you didnt expect men to give you respect so you stole it
throw yourself at them
i wish we could escape
inside voices ladies and gentleman
inside thoughts

tonight is really hot
better off hiding forever
learn to hide better
slowly past the hand of a broken clock
wait for it
wait for it

voice can you just try to speak?
the weight finally burned a hole in my head
rain tree look tired
big man looks afraid
pink slime shines
shines like a diamond in the fog
a fog of beer

shadows of the subway cars
while you were out two hours came by and sat in that very chair you are sitting in now
they tried to wait for you
but the room started turning into a dream of pink slime

stand back i got a question to ask
it needs to be answered
how heavy was that weight?
the one that put the hole in your head
the light from a million burned out stars
how bright?

dank breath after you smoke my bones
high fruit flame and vegan ice cream
near simple
near divine

theyre called reasons and you have none
know chaos
know a tall latte
father save me
in the name of the father i am not worthy
these woods are easy to cross by foot
in the name of the father the son and the holy slime ghost writhing

what is normal?
what is constant?
more answers are needed
thoughts speak up
spring is constant
saints lead away snakes from my path
i took an oath to this forest
an easy path
a velvet nest
a shot of tequila
bring gifts to a suffering woman
i am yellow
i am a lonesome fly stuck
do a bump
i am an animal
i am glowing flowing pink slime rising
arms reaching
do another bump
legs carry me far
eyes please see color
mother in the sky truth wondering
Blundering
Fumbling for something
Black eyes gazing
into the hazing fog
built up by the pink slime rising
amen

Lizbeth holds the dress against her. It's new, her mother had bought it for her. The cloth is smooth and soft, but she doesn't like it. She looks at the dress in the mirror inside the wardrobe. She puts the dress down on the bed and takes off the dress she is wearing and lets it drop to the floor, kicks it out of the way. She picks the new dress off of the bed and put it on and pulls at the hem to pull it down fully. She twirls, looking at the dress and how it looks as she twirls. The colour's all wrong; the hang of it she loathes. It falls beneath her knees; too far below. She lifts the dress until it comes above her knees. She twirls again. If only Benedict was here, see muses, if only his eyes were here looking beside me. She lifts the dress higher and smiles. Mother would never approve of that length. She lets the dress drop to the given length. Boring. The material is old fashioned, she thinks, ******* it, pulling at the hem. The dress she pointed out to her mother while shopping in Midhurst was shorter and more colourful and didn't have silly bows at the back. Her mother didn't like it. It would make you look like a ****, her mother had said, like one of those tarts on that pop music show prancing around semi-dressed. She hadn't thought her mother had watched the 6.5 Special Show, but she had. She twirls again and looks in the mirror for any saving details of the dress, but there aren't any. The dress is drab and she will not wear it; she'll put it at the back of the wardrobe and forget it's there. She takes it off and lets it fall to the floor and stamps on it, then kicks it away. She sighs and gazes at herself in the mirror in underclothes and bra. Where is Benedict when you want him? She muses, putting her hands on her hips. Probably on the farm; working in the milk sheds weighing the milk or clearing out the cowsheds, as he did on weekends or after school. She had managed to get him to this room once while her parents were out, but it was to no avail and nothing happened. Her mother is downstairs preparing lunch; she can hear the pots and pans being used; a radio playing some classical stuff. She picks up her old dress and puts it back on. The new dress she hangs on a hanger and puts it at the back of her wardrobe and shuts the door. The old dress, black with red flowers, is becoming small and tight. It reaches just above her knees now and her mother said it was not decent to wear any more, but she wears it and loves it, even if it is tight and holds her firm. She walks the length of her room like a model, swaying her hips, hand held aloft, head tilted. She flops onto her bed and throws out her arms and looks at the ceiling. To think she had Benedict here on this bed that time and nothing happened; God how frustrating. There is plenty of time to think of boys, her mother had said, you're just thirteen, why when I was your age I was playing with dolls and skipping with a rope. Lizbeth hadn't played with her dolls for years; her skipping rope was at the bottom of the wardrobe unused. She sits up and looks at her room. The record player is on the floor by the window; an LP of the Everly Brothers in on the turntable; the sleeve is on the floor next to a cup and saucer, partially covered by soiled underclothes. She was a lazy girl, her mother said, too lazy for her own good. Her father(when he was home at all) said nothing much except how far he had travelled and how many orders he had managed to obtain. A girl at school( in a higher class) had given her a book with illustrations about *** with orders not to let other see it. She had gone through the book umpteen times(mostly gawking at the photos and illustrations) and trying to put into practice what she had read there. The book is at the bottom of the wardrobe in a brown paper bag tied with string( just in case her mother snooped around.) She wants *** with Benedict. She has tried to get him to perform many times, but he is reluctant, makes excuses. She doesn't want other boys. She wants one boy. Benedict. The book has an illustration what the boy has to do and the girl also. She has studied it so many times it is printed on her mind. There is also other illustrations about other things which she finds a bit distasteful. If her mother ever found the book, there would be hell to pay(providing her mother didn't drop with shock). She sighs. Closes her eyes. Embraces herself. Kisses her arms; pretends it is him, his lips kissing. She opens her eyes and stares; he is not there; he is missing.

A deadbeat father
Is not just the one that up and leaves
Its the one that allows his woman to have an abortion
And never takes a moment to grieve
Its the one that
Comes around once a year claiming he cant afford child support
It doesnt cost a dime to 'support your child'
Its priceless to make them smile
You'd know that if you stuck around for a little while
Its the one that stays in their children's life
Yet allows their seeds
To watch him strike his wife 'til she bleeds
Its the one that
Punches his daughter in the face
Then expects a gift and a smile
On father's day
Its the one that
Forms a search party when he realizes his child has gone missing
But he's been slowly killing her on the 'inside' so
Do you really think he cares if her 'outside' is breathing
Its the one that
Kicked out his 15 year old daughter for coming home 2 minutes too late
Now her period is afew days late
So changed are her life and her babies fate
Its the one that
Snooped through all the rooms in the house and found a gun
Then instead of asking
Made assumptions and punched his son
So violence plus violence equals silence
For the next few years
Til Mr. Father hears the doorbell and brought to life are his greatest fears
Each detail that started years ago in darkness is brought to light
On how his son was brutally murdered in an 'unnecessary fight'
See the definition of father is
A man that 'raises' a child
Not one that brings them 'down'
Im speaking real truth here
Its time you started acting more like fathers and less like clowns

The door throbs with sweat
In the morning-tide
"Whom can come at this time?"
A friend, I bet.

I stalk the sound until I reach the ****.
I open it to see the face of a cop.
Some questions spewed out of the mans mouth,
about if I have seen this other man printed on some page.
Then showed me of this woman,
which coincidentally is the one I've been raised.

They stepped in with no approbation
Suddenly, the atmosphere grew with scads of tension.
They access themselves into my home.
And snooped about the room, with noses to the ceiling.
I got this panicky feeling.

Again with the interrogation.
The only thing that fled through my mind was irritation.
Words came at me and caused an explosion.
Never have I felt more broken...

I constructed this stockade
to stable myself from memory lane.
And to have it easily be destroyed,
made me realize of all that I've been trying to avoid.

The men left, leaving me with bricks to recollect.
It was not a friend, that I have bet...

Again and again,
I tried again.
Again and again,
Tears fell once again.
Again and again,
I snooped on a whim.
Again and again, round and round,
Love is my weakness, this I have surely found.
They tell me theres too many lined up for me,
Im intimidating, Im going to leave, Im going to cheat, you say you are exhausted and going to deplete.
Again and again,
Just stay my friend then!
If you will not be here until the very end.
Again and again,
You see me as an again, nothing special just the same as them.
Again and again,
I yearn for passion, I yearn for the same love in return.
Again and again,
How many more will ask me to fight the fight I won't ever win?
Again and again,
I will never stop loving,
surely in the end I will find the one who doesn't just give in.

Finding something to write about that's not you is quite hard these days. It's really odd, I know you don't love me anymore and I don't love you anymore (maybe) but you're still all I think about. I guess because you were such a big part of my life for five months. Then you moved on in a week and it's total naivety of the situation hit me. How could you possibly have loved me? You moved on in a week, I'm just an idiot. I wish I could talk to you about it, but you don't really care enough to give me answers, and that's okay. I can make assumptions as long as your fine with it. I snooped through your phone and read you and one girl's messages. They were a little more than friendly I'd say, but hey, it was your prerogative. Then there was the other girl, and I should have realized so much sooner you were falling for her, but there comes the naive thing again. We both knew, though, that we weren't going to last. You were falling out of love, and I could feel it. Love is like a game of tug of war and as soon as one side lets go, the one that's still holding on falls flat on their ***. I mean truth be told, I was going to break up with you a month prior, but I didn't because I thought maybe we could fix things. Things were too far gone at that point though to really even be considered savable. I lost trust in you, you lost love for me. I wish for once you'd be honest with me though. Manned up and admitted you were falling for her while we were together. I wish that maybe we could be friends, but we definitely can't be right now because you're not open enough to be real with me. You're intimidated by my bluntness and mistake it for attachment. I'm moving on. Hell yeah it's hard. I mean, I loved you so much, but I can't change the fact that you don't love me. I'm not just going to hold onto something if there's no point. Anyways, it's probably better if we're not together. It's been almost two weeks and I feel better than I had in my relationship with you. You made me feel so insecure and ugly that I hated myself until you were near me. I didn't love myself because I need you to validate that I meant something more than flesh and bone. But you left and I grew. I'm learning to love myself more and more everyday. I don't let anyone step on me anymore ,and I don't let people disrespect me. Life's been really good, and I'm learning to live without you. I never thought I would.


                                                     Cest la vie

Ticking clocks and photographs

have many tales to tell

distorted smiles and passing time

show that I loved you well.

The dreams we shared

lay broken now 

aflame upon the pyre

I snooped about

and found you out

you ***** ******* liar.

i was an ***** player for a talk show in the southside
one night while tanking up preshow at a poolhall down the block
i snooped a conversation about a stripper birthday party
currently in progress at mcardles pub
mcardles being a bar on an alley in the southside
i made haste for the stripper party
though i didn’t know which alley to head for
alas, mcardles pub stayed aloof
i was toasted and the southside got bigger
with talkshow time only an hour away
then 45 minutes, then half an hour
and i couldn’t find mcardles
many alleys, all blind, no mcardles
no strippers, no off-duty pulchritude
finally, in despair, i surrendered
went to the lava lounge, plugged in my *****
painted my face and put on an indian headdress
i sang "piece of my heart"
sharing my misery with the audience
(yes we had an audience, a good one)
when i was done our mc alexie said
"he looks like one of the village people
but he sang the **** out of that song
let’s hear it for unfinished symphonies"
yeah let’s hear it for me
taking pieces of my ***** heart
and throwing them at the happy drunken
coked-up ladies at mcardles invisible pub

The real life
The long days
He worked so hard
And never played.
And I would be the whining wife
Accusing him that he stole my life
Appeared in some insolvable fits
He'd walk in and try to fix it
My spirit seemed to never lift.
Held me tight
I pulled away
He tried to bring me back to the present day
Why I wallowed away
In the past.
Forever it would last
I paced the floor to kick it back
While he was trying his damnedest to make me laugh.
Listen to this song
Make some art
What's wrong sweety?
Please don't fall apart.
The comfort that he tried to impart
Was useless as I broke his heart.
He thought that we should leave the country
Pull me out of my past and flee
Little did he see
My past life came with me.
Japanese ground
Different tongue
I tried to keep from acting young.
Held my sound in for too long
Until I was deaf and much too forlorn.
I would watch myself get intense
Like an outer body experience
He prodded himself, at my expense,
To love me without consequence.
If he didn't, it meant he lied
And I could see it again in his eyes
I prepared him for a rocky life
But he was shocked when my prophecy came by.
I tried so hard to apologize
Going up and down and side to side
Inside the confines of my brittle mind.
Open the windows
Let the sun in
Let's go for a walk
Get out of bed.
Maybe a job would to the trick
And it did...for a little bit.
Making light of moody fits
I allowed him to stray a bit.
Naked ladies on the screen
I didn't look like the girl of his dreams
I snooped a bit, I wish I never did
The words said to someone else that I had to quickly forgive.
No worse than that things I've ever done
I'm not one to sit and judge
Let the silence in me run
Far away
Cook a meal
He'd never come
By a skirt
He never saw
Get together
With some of his other sailors
And let them make some fun
Of me.
The crazy one he came to keep
In his home and in his sheets.
It was how it was to be
I felt comfort in negativity
Letting all the creepy crawlies
Make my thoughts forgo the follies
I can hardly victimize
Myself and my despise
I created a life with my own hands
I became a *****
And he a stronger man
For putting up with it.
Never thought that I would miss
The quiet kid in part one
Long before number six.

You snooped on my phone
but didn't discover any shame
no naked confessions
you searched in vain

for a double life
exciting intimacies
a corps in a wardrobe, secrets
between the lines

I have breathed in those
old statuses, for you
they are empty, boring rooms
dusty and cobwebbed

Keep them as memories
It doesn't touch me that you were
where you shouldn't be
I'm already somewhere else

Claudia woke up early
While her punk lover was still
Asleep
She snooped around his appartment
And saw something other than
Pictures of rockstars
She saw pictures of Himalayan
Monasteries and scenes with beautiful
Coloured flags
And a shrine to a picture
Of some old
Creepy man in robes and glasses
With no hair.
That explains the wierd books
She thought but was creeped out.
What did she get herself into
And she was going to marry
This guy.
She wanted some answers
Claudia couldn’t wait
She gently rubbed him on the back
Morning love.
When he stirred
She asked him about the creepy shrine
Boris said that he had a plast life
And that she wouldn’t understand
“Try me,” she barked.
He said that he was the 6th Dalai Lama
In one life
And a normal monk in another
He said that he and Claudia
We’re meant for each other
Because their souls met
In his past lives.
Thinking creepy
Claudia
Left for the day
Thinking
If this creep comes to watch me teach
Or whatever great
If he doesn’t show up
Fantastic, it was good while it lasted.
She hung out with her
Friends
She hasn’t seen
Ever since with being
With Boris.