There's jam on the wall

The summer wind blows a beer can across the patio stone
as trees sing a song of a hundred year indifference
I can't imagine anything more perfect
You will never get
how absolute
this mediocrcy is
How much I desire more
yet deserve
only this fleeting moment
Now passed

The Big One and the Rodeo Clown or 'love note number 3'

I let all of this get ground into
my ugly knotted hate machine
when I should have smiled
I can't blame you
I need you to be innocent
so I can sleep
You ran into my arms once
and broke me
I have to accept all the blame
as payment
for that one second
that I so cherish

broken plastic clasp

I can't fix this.
It is so frustrating to know that there is
absolutely nothing I can can do about it.
Nothing within my power can make any of this better.
I can only watch Kim Possible and brood.

small frail cheap and plastic

I knew from the first second I saw you
you would break me heart irreparably
and I did nothing to stop it.
Why do you seek my destruction?
When I love you so much?
And now the venom you spew
exposes your faults
I have to question my decision making.
Now I don't know what to do
I'm stuck in this gimmick
and you'll never know I could have saved you.
That makes me a broken plastic clasp.

the anna concept

I can still feel your barrette digging into my chest
and the numbness of my arm around you
The television test pattern hums low
I dare not move to change it
lest you wake
and this moment ends

Every shred of courage
is barely enough
to press my lips to your forehead
as you shift closer
sigh contented
and mumble something about bread

I fight sleep like death
because I would rather dehydrate and die
than miss one second
of the longest extastcy man or monster has ever known

as if a quick edit

Now I'm haunted.
I know the exact time and place that I was violated.
I can feel its grip upon my freedom.
But, it started and almost ended; perfect.

I followed the rails, towards the end.
And the final seconds felt like the second between the comet hitting,
and everything dying.

Everything died.


And the slightest of hints I was looking for,
did not appear,
I'm starting to think this was one big carrot.
And I'm the ass chasing it.

sixty-two fifty buys a pretty pink prom dress

I can't control my disdain as her picture stares at me. Nice smile, weird eyebrows, seems like a nice enough breeder. I'm sure grandpa's proud, as grandpas generally are, dead or otherwise.
Saved to the hard drive of a pink Bratz computer that mom and dad bought you. Avril cooling in the disk tray, searching for her dogeared copy of 'Chicken soup for the teenage soul'.
In thirty years, after a hard day at Zellers, you can show your grand kids the article from the Mercury.
And sigh with regret.

falter

I will savor this heartbreak.
As much as I will pretend NOT too care.
I will instead become awkward and sullen.
In the comfort of the slight chance
that I can pretend this never happened.
This hurt never runs out.
And I can never forgive myself for trying.
I don't deserve ambition.
I can't even learn to keep my mouth fucking shut.
It's sad that I had the audacity to think
that I deserved anything else but suffer.

fixed

I don't know why I feel the need to be the martyr.
These fucking children don't care.
I fall for the innocent act every time
Why do these tragic girls keep haunting me?
Why do they seek my destruction?
Why Haven't I quit yet
I've quit everything I've ever started.

never trust anyone who calls you names to your face

I don't get this. I'm sure I'm not meant too.
It's my fault for being honest,
you've never believed anyone,
I don't know why I thought you'd believe me.

You told me you would hurt me
I should have believed you.

who gets custody of the hallowed cups

I just can't be responsible for these variances.
I fucked it up a long time ago and I can't seem to escape this circle.
This one chance I have will save me,
I can reboot.

I can't undo this shank to the heart,
but I can write over it and pretend it never happened.

I'll never escape her sullen eyes,
I can run though,
anyone else would.

I don't deserve this.
Self esteem is a strange thing.
Unfortunately that doesn't make any of this less real.

I lift boxes

I would much rather you had stabbed me in the face.
Nothing could have hurt me more than your vindictive shot across my bow.
As much as I tried to pretend otherwise,
your just a little girl
who likes to hurt people.
I wasn't smart enough to see that.
So I deserve this crushing defeat

those barren leaves

There has to be a better idea,
but for the life of me,
I can't figure out what that is.
I found a dollar in the melting snowbank by my porch,
and I was content in the knowledge that I could go outside again.
That seems enough.

The End

If god promised I'd reincarnate as a cat; I'd shoot myself in the face right now

Tompy's dead and there's nothing I can fucking do about it. I am so frusterated and fucking powerless. My convictions and empathy are useless as this tiny creature crys out to me. It looks into my eyes and pleads for help unil it's tiny crys grow quiet. It opens its eyes one more time but there's nothing left. All of my good intentions are worthless, my soul, my humanity are all trivial.
Tompy's not here to console me. I am not here for any apparant reason.

cohiba

While I lay drunk on the carpet
you played cards
while your sister adjusted her skirt
and Julia talked on the payphone
while mixing perscriptions
Kate ran by
throwing meat
while your sister broke hearts
you conviently don't remember
while I lay drunk on the carpet