crumb

(final version)

background to this one. i started writing it about 5 years ago. ive thrown away about a tree's worth of paper, crumpled it up and thrown it on floors, in garbage cans, at my old roomates stinky cat, out car windows without care for the fine, stuffed in down garbage disposals, beamed it at the heads of shitty ex boyfriends, and their mothers, until one day, i went crazy. i mean really crazy. i dont know how i finished it, because i was, ummmm, not present. but this is it man, im done with this one, its tortured me for too long.

CRUMB
a heart becomes undone,
piece by piece,
crumb by crumb.
how shall i choose my pain?
in lonliness or love?

Everyone knows about Syliva Plath.
leave it to me to be the last.
all that i can do is very cliche.
i'd cut off my ear,
but i dont know how to paint.

i hate me. and i hate you.
ill not wake up one morning,
but bloated and blue.

38

इस ठाट थे ब्रेक/ ३८/ और अनोठेर वेट फॉर सोमेथिंग तो हप्पें ठाट'स ग्रेट/

olive

love is a trap.
an unfair drunk heart.
a muscle with memory loss.
too sick with amnesia
to recollect
flailing its arm in the dark
with stupid faith on a death bed.
god must be dead,
or laughing,
read your bible
acquaint yourself with sin.
wither away like an olive in gin.

grandma

i am so sick of your nay, nay, nay

is that the only word in your vocabulary?

i have my grandmother's rage

its beginning to activate

she was a mean old woman,

but i loved her just the same.

id do everything she'd say

so she wouldnt hurt my mother.

she had this terrible way

of making everyone hate each other.

and i'd lay awake, thinking of my escape,

just like tonight.

its the dirtiest way to fight.

From this point on,

its all just fluff.

i know how to be a little cream puff.

lizzie

ive been invaded by the snatchers

nobody's talking 'xcept for flak catchers.

turn it around, turn it around

lizzie and her ax have come to town.

its all just a bloody mess.

what's to be done?

just yes, yes, yes.

i want to do it with you

all i wanted to do,
was to do it with you,
on nice clean sheets,
of staff paper.
it all sounds all wrong,
lots of laughter,
from the cacklers,
my oh, my oh, my oh, my
it couldn't be anything less than that.
do i wear stilettos?
do i sweat?
well, yes, i sweat.
and i stammer.
what you think of my why,
could come down like a hammer.
I'm blonder and more blue eyed.
and i sing along,
in the shower,

where i feel power.

i understand what you say.
like i said it too, two seconds late,
but it was all you.
i have to admit, i own lipgloss,
i only wear it when i know you'll be at the dog park.
my hair is messy, and no make up, 

just a little shine,
to keep me in your mind. is that a crime?
when you step in shit,
we both laugh and laugh,
sometimes a dog will break the ice
and teach us a trick.
'come on you two, its not so serious!'
can i show you me?
when im not hustling the gents,
 i'm quite a woman when i'm far above my sex.

i think you'll get it, and say 'ah, i get it."
so whats taking you so long?, 11 years after one song,
i know you keep going back to it.
i pop up in weird places.
a sign?
not by my design.

it could be all wrong,
but maybe pristine.
what if it were really pristine?
that would be the laugh resounding

all through the industry.

that would be crazy.

skeof

ive got no fight in me tonight.
i got nothin' to write.
nothing to say..
i dont care about being this tired.
its better than being so wired,
like ive been these past few days.
i wanted to go, i wanted to bolt.
but actually, im bolted and tethered,
to a midwest winter.
trying to pee in the yard without being frost bitten.
that didnt make sense to you, did it.
i've no cleverness.
i regret it.

black and white

if he knew how it soothed her
to hear him play,
even on the crudest of instrument.

away, away, away, say,
the keys, black and white.
she would sleep tonight.

my hair is long

i change my mind like wavy air,
weary of staying too long,
like my hair,
so i cut it short to take a short cut, i swear,
i wish, i wish, i wish i were there..
its been two years
more than i can bear,
in a small town to be crowned, though its not why i stuck around.
dreams can be shifty little things,
leading and leaving me where,
i never thought, in a million years,
the suitcases i spent a fortune on would be covered in dust.
i must be nuts.
they're sitting in the basement of someone else's parents' place,
at this age, i dont know if im laughing in humor or in shame.

my plants

i live in an attic
with red walls and static
my plants have had it.
now they're brown.
i try to coax them,
with water i dose them
now they're just drowned.
noone knows why,
i try and i try,
to keep them alive,
i say "please turn green.
you're me".

we are all going...

The earth is either hard or soft, but still it 

smashes.
rotting will make anyone sick. a prayer for you while they poke with a stick
and burn you to fit into an earn, which will sit,
nicley on the mantle.
the cat will knock you over,
the underpaid Hispanic housekeeper
will quietly suck you into the vacuum cleaner.
the Mrs. will never know. she's been on the bottle way to long.
its amazing how people forget, especially a grinch who stole more than christmas.
miss him? nodding politely,oh yes.
needing a dirty martini, two olives, will you please pass it?

there is no status in

ashes.