baby I love you hair
wanna eat those green shades
and sell your teeth
gonna buy me a new watch
to pass the time
I want to be precise
oh but the girls I meet
they settle for my crotch
but I'm alright
I'll say it till it becomes true
yeah I'm alright
I'll say it till my tongue turns blue
yeah!!
I want your ovaries
I want to procreate
I know what I want
I put out on the first date
I'm not scared of change
not making friends with it either
but you know what they say!
do you know what they say?
something someone else's said before
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH'm on the floor
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Cleavage 4
Repugnant.
Brief moments ago we were one. All that was felt was that one. It was one image in time and space. There was lust. And greedily I satiated it.
Our bodies met in all magnitude. And she wasn't so real to me. Martha. The fungus feeding on my rotten flesh. Now I truly feel her. I don't feel the heat between two bodies. Now there's only me and her. And it stings my senses this awareness of an alien body attached to mine. Martha my abortion. I want to shake her off. Cut all cords. Wash my body and mind. Watching her dissolve into the water and disappear through the drain. Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha. Fuck you Martha!
Martha fucker.
Ha.
Why are we drawn to dead animals? Why do we poke them with a stick? Why do we glorify their entrails?
Is she the dead animal I wonder. Or am I the one about to die. I feel sick. In the head. I want to kick her. I want to get rid of her. I want to bag her and bury her somewhere. This is my humiliation and I should not be reminded of it anymore. I don't want her skin on mine anymore. It stinks. Stinks of sweat and no self respect.
"What are you thinking?"
What is suppose to be a tender smile seems to me an imploring stare. Take pity on me, her eyes cry out. And I want to. I want to end her misery and therefore end mine. I want to shoot her in that pathetic smile.
"Nothing."
I'm a Martha fucker. Ha. God.
"I'm so happy you came!"
Just disappear.
"It was great. You were great."
Stop scrounging for pleasantries.
"You ARE great!"
Just shut up!
Why am I smiling back at her?! I spew at my own hypocrisy. I should just end it right here. And let her have her anger. She has a right to it.
No.
No.
She doesn't!
A being so idiotic has no right to anger. That right must be taken with one's bare hands. And she hasn't got the brain for it. She can't even grasp the idea of self-respect.
Why did I come here?
"Listen, is it okay if I have a shower?"
"Of course honey. Can I come? Hm?"
That would defeat the god damn purpose of the shower now wouldn't it you stupid bitch?!
"Yeah that'd be great but I need to hurry up. I, hm, I need, I need to go. I had completely forgotten about this thing with a friend of mine."
"Oh.."
"Yeah, he's in a really shitty situation right now. Family problems, work problems, girl problems, everything basically."
"Oh, poor thing. And you're going to the rescue? You're such a sweet friend."
Are you that fucking stupid or do you think acting this naive is charming?!
"Yeah, you know. So.. Yeah, I have to hurry up."
Hurry up to the shower. To skin myself. To rinse all the foreign fluids in my body. To intoxicate the water pipes with the stench of you.
Brief moments ago we were one. All that was felt was that one. It was one image in time and space. There was lust. And greedily I satiated it.
Our bodies met in all magnitude. And she wasn't so real to me. Martha. The fungus feeding on my rotten flesh. Now I truly feel her. I don't feel the heat between two bodies. Now there's only me and her. And it stings my senses this awareness of an alien body attached to mine. Martha my abortion. I want to shake her off. Cut all cords. Wash my body and mind. Watching her dissolve into the water and disappear through the drain. Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha. Fuck you Martha!
Martha fucker.
Ha.
Why are we drawn to dead animals? Why do we poke them with a stick? Why do we glorify their entrails?
Is she the dead animal I wonder. Or am I the one about to die. I feel sick. In the head. I want to kick her. I want to get rid of her. I want to bag her and bury her somewhere. This is my humiliation and I should not be reminded of it anymore. I don't want her skin on mine anymore. It stinks. Stinks of sweat and no self respect.
"What are you thinking?"
What is suppose to be a tender smile seems to me an imploring stare. Take pity on me, her eyes cry out. And I want to. I want to end her misery and therefore end mine. I want to shoot her in that pathetic smile.
"Nothing."
I'm a Martha fucker. Ha. God.
"I'm so happy you came!"
Just disappear.
"It was great. You were great."
Stop scrounging for pleasantries.
"You ARE great!"
Just shut up!
Why am I smiling back at her?! I spew at my own hypocrisy. I should just end it right here. And let her have her anger. She has a right to it.
No.
No.
She doesn't!
A being so idiotic has no right to anger. That right must be taken with one's bare hands. And she hasn't got the brain for it. She can't even grasp the idea of self-respect.
Why did I come here?
"Listen, is it okay if I have a shower?"
"Of course honey. Can I come? Hm?"
That would defeat the god damn purpose of the shower now wouldn't it you stupid bitch?!
"Yeah that'd be great but I need to hurry up. I, hm, I need, I need to go. I had completely forgotten about this thing with a friend of mine."
"Oh.."
"Yeah, he's in a really shitty situation right now. Family problems, work problems, girl problems, everything basically."
"Oh, poor thing. And you're going to the rescue? You're such a sweet friend."
Are you that fucking stupid or do you think acting this naive is charming?!
"Yeah, you know. So.. Yeah, I have to hurry up."
Hurry up to the shower. To skin myself. To rinse all the foreign fluids in my body. To intoxicate the water pipes with the stench of you.
Sunday, 17 May 2009
Darling You're a Star
I'm walking to where the sun does rise
what are you all if not my surprise
just lock and load
and sock the toad
someone's scrambling eggs up in the sky
someone, something, somewhere I don't know why
there's a big tip under the jar
just a nip so you can't go far
drunk and nauseous on your flower powerless
you come in pinkyellowblue, oh you fluoresce
all this you get to choose from
oh oh excited oh oh clap clap dumb
what are you all if not my surprise
just lock and load
and sock the toad
someone's scrambling eggs up in the sky
someone, something, somewhere I don't know why
there's a big tip under the jar
just a nip so you can't go far
drunk and nauseous on your flower powerless
you come in pinkyellowblue, oh you fluoresce
all this you get to choose from
oh oh excited oh oh clap clap dumb
Crapshooter
drowning
your legs shaped like number four
you're losing all and a bit more
with your eyes set on number eight
and now it's late
and now it's late
frowning
all is good when it fits in a jar
sleeping six figurines in the back of a car
you put it down for the long brown tail
and now you wail
and now you wail
squinting
the man at the shop is now married twice
he's got your ring, you have the rice
watching memories on battered dust
now run you must
now run you must
your legs shaped like number four
you're losing all and a bit more
with your eyes set on number eight
and now it's late
and now it's late
frowning
all is good when it fits in a jar
sleeping six figurines in the back of a car
you put it down for the long brown tail
and now you wail
and now you wail
squinting
the man at the shop is now married twice
he's got your ring, you have the rice
watching memories on battered dust
now run you must
now run you must
Saturday, 16 May 2009
Don't Be a Whino
I am done for
I am one for
grapes and beads around your neck
I stare at their course with all due respect
theirs is closer
our's too far
swarming around around around
some say grapes when crushed make wine
so is that why, is that why you whine
as I get closer
I was too far
orbiting around around around
forgive my case of winecrophilia
now that I'm drunk, I'm gonna feel ya
and suck on the last crushed grape
your neck is in the worse state
but I love you just the way you are
(dead, soaked in wine, in the back of my car)
I am one for
grapes and beads around your neck
I stare at their course with all due respect
theirs is closer
our's too far
swarming around around around
some say grapes when crushed make wine
so is that why, is that why you whine
as I get closer
I was too far
orbiting around around around
forgive my case of winecrophilia
now that I'm drunk, I'm gonna feel ya
and suck on the last crushed grape
your neck is in the worse state
but I love you just the way you are
(dead, soaked in wine, in the back of my car)
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Cleavage 3
This is a mess. It's revolting. I wake up and go to sleep surrounded by filth and abandon. I'm an orphan of life. I breathe and I rot.
If I was to die in my sleep it would be such a decadent sight to the one who'd find my naked body in bed, between sheets of sweat, sperm and spit. The three magic Ss. And who would that be exactly? My landlord complaining about the rent? The neighbours complaining about the stench? A thief in the night complaining about the amount of worthless shit I've always found hard to get rid of and that currently reside on top of every flat surface in the house?
What do I care? It's not disturbing enough to make me change so I guess it's just not disturbing at all. Not in my sick, coward mind.
In a few years I'm part of a great group of people that get together to share life experience. And we love one another. We live in harmony. We sing in harmony. We are all gifted people with much hunger for knowledge. And every odd day we throw caution to the wind and have a ball. Skin dances with skin and skin and skin and skin and tongue. And we're all part of something beautiful. A glorious all powerful being that breathes and thinks and makes mistakes and learns from them. An organism that loves. A love unashamed and unreserved. With a heart that's unbreakable and impervious to jealousy, doubt or fear.
Yes.
No.
Fucking dreams will be the end of me.
Where did I put her number... Oh.
"Hey Martha, yeah it's me.
...
So you're still home?
...
Yeah, I'll be there in twenty.
...
Yeah, right, see you soon."
If I was to die in my sleep it would be such a decadent sight to the one who'd find my naked body in bed, between sheets of sweat, sperm and spit. The three magic Ss. And who would that be exactly? My landlord complaining about the rent? The neighbours complaining about the stench? A thief in the night complaining about the amount of worthless shit I've always found hard to get rid of and that currently reside on top of every flat surface in the house?
What do I care? It's not disturbing enough to make me change so I guess it's just not disturbing at all. Not in my sick, coward mind.
In a few years I'm part of a great group of people that get together to share life experience. And we love one another. We live in harmony. We sing in harmony. We are all gifted people with much hunger for knowledge. And every odd day we throw caution to the wind and have a ball. Skin dances with skin and skin and skin and skin and tongue. And we're all part of something beautiful. A glorious all powerful being that breathes and thinks and makes mistakes and learns from them. An organism that loves. A love unashamed and unreserved. With a heart that's unbreakable and impervious to jealousy, doubt or fear.
Yes.
No.
Fucking dreams will be the end of me.
Where did I put her number... Oh.
"Hey Martha, yeah it's me.
...
So you're still home?
...
Yeah, I'll be there in twenty.
...
Yeah, right, see you soon."
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Lover sounds distressed,
she's hearing things and
believing
in the back of her mind,
there's fear
knitting
her soul is aging
she's seen too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust
Lover sounds distressed,
birds singing sound like
screaming
once her world burnt,
skinned her heart while she was
dreaming
her heart's the liver
she drank too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust
she's hearing things and
believing
in the back of her mind,
there's fear
knitting
her soul is aging
she's seen too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust
Lover sounds distressed,
birds singing sound like
screaming
once her world burnt,
skinned her heart while she was
dreaming
her heart's the liver
she drank too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust
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