About me.

so i'm sick of these suckers tellin'
me that I look like angelina
that I sound like regina
because fuck that might be true
but there ain't nobody here but me
and if you don't watch your back
I'll toss you a beat
 you can catch this melody

i got sick of bein' sick,
so I had to give the weed up
but the truth is that bein sober
always makes me a better singer
and the other truth is that drugs help
they make me want to write
'cause they make rainbows form in circles
'round your fingers, 'round your eyes.

and crazy people make pictures
out of the wings of butterflies,
but crazy people also tell me
that I can't read minds
I'll read yours like a picture book
if there are diamonds in those mines
 there isn't a question on this earth
whose answer I won't find.

all these people getting famous
when their words have already been used
all you are is a pair of pipes,
alone in your room, feeling blue
and I'm not sayin it didn't sound good
and I'm not sayin your words arent true
I'm just sick of seeing people sellin records
when they havent said a single thing new

I'm sick of thinking that the men here
are only here for the bitches
who sold their souls to Maybelline,
to the Abercrombie and Fitches.
And I'm sick of thinking that the bitches here
are only here for the dicks
that we spent a thousands years
fighting for this and it still
isn't gettin' fixed!

I'm sick of watching him stare
at her boobs when she spent the time on her hair.
I'm sick of puttin' on high-heeled shoes
when you motherfuckers don't notice or care
I'm sick of hearing excuses for all of the abuse
and it tortures me that the abusers now get to be my muse.

Ha. I keep on hearin' boys flow
'bout bewitchin' bitches with their dicks.
Here's what they don't know:
that mostly?
that shit makes me sick.

like defrosting chicken.

we should get up
already been up; already froze my tits off to get the mail
no you didn't, they're right here
nah these are my backup pair
.. and how come you never let me borrow 'em?
you can have the originals if you want
no i don't want those they're frozen
theyre fine. just leave em in the fridge over night.

the walls are transparent either way

living upstairs means you have
to walk past a bunch of people
to get back on the ground.
means you have to say things
the same old things
everyday. i despise everyday
i just want days.

    hellohowareyou
    ohyouknow, fine
    ki'mleavingnow
door crunch closed
forget to lock the door or maybe
you did and it doesn't matter anyway
because someone probably needs
to steal all that useless shit
before i make something dangerous with it.
or worse, if i ever make anything
that sounds good i don't
know what i'll do with myself.

today is a good day to jump off the roof.
i don't know why we don't do it more often
the crackle of kneecaps and broken footbones
better than speaking.

the shower is on. i'll run out now.
forget my eyes.
i become invisible
when i can't see

sunday: the best day for profanity.

i should end neither my poetry

nor my arguments like this. 

it isn't productive.

it isn't helpful. it doesn't

even feel ever as good as you'd 

think it would. 

still

fuck you.

some piece flew off your car once

then lived in your trunk. 

it now lies hopelessly on my floor.

dogs can't stand up in cars, 

i can't even sit in yours with out bouncing

off the passengerside door.

yet it's my fault your clutch is smoking.

suck it

chocolove for my darlings.

not a single car stopped for me today.
i didn't stop for them either.
the wheels on their sunday drives
and I on my sunday walk
went where the foothill wind steered me
and not a single car got in my way.
sometimes the lights changed
just in time for me to pass
 i'm convinced they can't see me.
It isn't healthy, Planet,
to continually convince me
I'm invincible.

she said to cut the daisy from my throat (II)

then throw it in the garden but the soil
isn't rich.
throw the preacher
down the stairwell and a comb
falls from his pocket. every hair
in place precisely, coins don't rattle.
(though dice do) instead they
stick to your bare feet so
you drop them, they ring in the
ceramic offering bowl. it's a sink,
really. don't ask where the pipes go.
they don't even tell God
that shit.