Go, go!
Do!
Can’t.
Got to!
But I wanna stop.
Shaking head, she sighs.
You bastards.
I am
As I am
And I am
Dead
Beneath
A Haze
Of Religion
And
In a word
Rape.
Enter, stage left
An old woman,
Naked,
Dancing,
Wrist torn and bleeding.
Stage darkens.
Applause.
Dirty boy
With your hair all tangled
And a dusty face
Mama’s gonna clean you up
My dirty boy
Looking at me with your knowing eyes–
Old man eyes
Knowing,
Knowing this and that
And knowing way too much
To be my little boy
My little boy’s not knowing so much pain
Wipe away the pain with my warm, wet washcloth
Like I wipe clean your face
Take away your pain
Take you away from that hurtin’ place
‘Cause I’ve been there
And I don’t wanna go back
It’s so dark there
And cold
I ain’t gonna go back
I’m just gonna cling to you
Gotta cling to you
Like everything
And you–
You cling to me
And we’ll pretend
You’re not yet a man
My dirty boy.
Some consider him their greatest enemy
Ridiculous battles being fought,
Knowing he will win.
But I do not fight,
I open my arms to him
As I should to my husband.
I call for him with silver metal
That brings the thip, thip
Splashing into the basin
And stains white innocence red.
I stumble euphorically into the yard
Where he awaits me,
I in my gown
And he in his tuxedo,
And in tangled twists of nervous emotion
I grasp his pale hand.
We parade into the blackness
Of the chilled autumn sky,
Where, upon his pallid steed,
We forever ride.
I’ll say it.
WOW!
I’ll say it backwards.
WOW!
I’ll say it upside down.
MOM!
I’ll say it upside down and backwards.
MOM!
I’ll say it as the opposite of saying it upside down and backwards.
DAD!
I’ll say it as the opposite of saying it upside down and backwards, backwards.
DAD!
I’ll say it as a synonym of saying it as the opposite of saying it upside down and backwards, backwards.
POP!
I’ll say it as a synonym of saying it as the opposite of saying it upside down and backwards, backwards, backwards.
POP!
I’ll say it.
WOW!
WOW!
MOM!
MOM!
DAD!
DAD!
POP!
POP!
They call me, from the gray
To slip into their sleeping indifference.
Behind gray masks they whisper,
And steam, with breath,
The cold window that is behind me.
I turn and jerk back the ragged curtain
To stare
Eye to eye
With the gray.
Heart pounding, I discover
Nothing!
Nothing there but my own breath on the glass,
And I say I was dreaming.
Shaken, I turn from the window and attempt to sleep–
My anxieties not idle.
I hear them whispering,
Lullabies, hypnotic lullabies.
Weightless gray solitude.
Stone submission.
I’ve got too many bills to pay,
I have to work my life away.
Will I ever get to play,
Or will I work my life away?
I’ll find a better job one day,
Won’t have to work my life away.
Success for me and mine I pray,
Or will we work our lives away?
No good jobs for us today,
Why must we work our lives away?
McSlaves we are, McSlaves we’ll stay,
As we all work our lives away.
With passing days, our dreams decay,
While we work our lives away.
A big screen TV is all I pray,
For I have worked my life away.
It’s so fake!
Hollywood.
The blue ribbon prize
At the county fair
Goes to the farmer
Who raised the finest cow.
The blue ribbon means the farmer
Can feed his family better than the rest.
The Academy Award
Goes out to a pretender
Who only knows the humble beast
On a chef’s finest plate.
An Oscar means the actor
Can feed his family better than the rest,
But only if the farmer is successful,
And sells beef to the chef,
And then uses his hard earned profits
To pay for a movie ticket,
Provided the farmer
Enjoys the jester at all.
Please, no more,
You fuck minded idiots.
The precautions you take
To defend this sphere of hate
Prove you must be mad.
No!
I am the one who’s insane,
But of no fault of my own.
My mold was made by slaves
Of your evil ways.
Sure I’m insane,
But at least I have morals.
You are blind to the clear picture.
If possible, I would lend you my eyes,
But you must stay in darkness.
I do not belong to this world,
But to my own self,
Therefore, I am mad.
But isn’t it nice?
Strip yourself
Of useless things.
Have fun.
Focus on:
Art
Music
Magic.
Shed dead thoughts
Like dead skin.
Bury dead friends
As if indeed they are;
Remember them in reverence.
Pray for peace daily.
End it.
Slice it.
Slit it down the middle.
Blood spilling like the innards of a sacrifice.
Your wrist.
Its belly.
Feed my gods your wretched abandon.
Sing for them songs of your misfortune.
If you’re lucky,
You’ll find yourself,
Delivered to my bare feet.
I allow you to kiss them.
Pity the child.
This beast.
My daughter.
Get off your cross or you’ll go to slaughter.
And much to my surprise she does.
She kneels before me.
And washes my bare feet with her flaxen hair.
Joyous laughter.
It tickles.
