Somnambulance Pt 7

She stuck out like a thore sumb
Red yellow and torn around the nail
Chewed at and spit out
It must have cost her everything
She was old now
Older than I expected
It had only been ten years

Although a decade is actually
a relatively long time
It never feels like it though

The first thing she did
Was kick me in the face
And send a few teeth flying
As I sat there swearing
Spitting up bits of blood
And wondering what I'd done
Suddenly I found myself bothered
That now I'd look like one of
those hicks with no teeth
I hated that it bothered me
It didn't matter right now
What were a few teeth
Compared to my life

Surprisingly she held her
hand out and hoisted me up
And as we sat in silence
at the giant cafeteria table
she asked me if I was okay
and said she'd mistaken me for
someone else

Teeth kicked out for looking
like someone else
Why couldn't I look like a celebrity
and be asked for an autograph instead

I needed her help
so I tried to remain polite about it
But I couldn't help but want to ask
Was she going to pay my dental bill too?

Basilica in Blue

she screamed
skeleton key
torn free from
her breast
dead sentries chant
beneath the cold cement
pews stacked
windows slick with half-
evaporated lacquer
dust covers leave
no trace of the lives
they once led

i'm taking it with me
the story's for no one
to learn from
to learn to love
just a selfish deviance
directed toward
these fiends in shadow's length

stoop is crooked
stoop is bent
chandelier clear
of melted candle wicks
timpani plays the heartbeat
to the soul of the
blackened furnace

i'm taking this with me
i'll run to the doors
and i'll lock the doors
on my way out
what's meant to be kept in
will be kept within mine instead

Fuck You

you don't care what i have to say
because you don't care period
and i'm not going to stand up
and be your precious white knight
no matter how much moral support
i have behind me

see, you buried yourself
and you can't dig yourself out
and you want help, so much help
but all you've got in return is hate

death pumps heavy through your veins

see, i don't ask for any restitution
but i can't consider you anymore
for every little scrap i try to save myself
to simply survive the night

see, i'm not old
but i'm just as tired
and i'm tired of crying over
your already corpse still in spasms

if you're going to die
go die in some hole where
i won't have to hear it
and cheer up in your final complacency
knowing i was just as screwy as you
just in different places

Lola Castradora

No balls/If I have anything to say/Then I can't get behind it/
I want to say something striking/That's not laced with expletives/
I want to tell you I want you/but what's that worth

What's ever worth it

No guts/It goes from my stomach/Straight to my bowels/then
waits/Little oily pools of/gestated gesticulated waste/poking,
peering out of place

I wish I was a woman/So I could say these things/And someone
would care/But if I was a woman/I wouldn't say these things

So instead I sit
and watch you climb out the window
and fall five hundred stories
to concrete
and still laugh
when you hit
saying "Come on down.
the weather's great."
But I'm stuck
And the biggest part of me
Deep down, the only part that matters
Wants it this way
Because it's easier
And the sun isn't always yellow
But it isn't always burning my skin either

No balls to speak of/Maybe I should just get it over with/and
paint my nails/the brightest shade of pink available

I wish I were a woman/so I could kiss you/and we'd laugh about
it/then still be friends

You say things that make me feel so small
I want to crawl inside your head and steal it
I want to own you
But can never say it
Because it's this seeming impossibility
On the concrete path you're always landing

Movie Dialogue #19

“You know what? It’s not even that guy. Fuck that guy for sure… but it’s not even him. He’s just the asshole, the catalyst. That’s what they’re there for… But it’s not what kills me... What kills me is the old ladies that all look alike and all act alike and at one point you’re just like ‘oh, I just saw you a dozen times already today.' And they write their goddamn checks because they don’t grasp the concept of a debit card. ‘People that use credit cards don’t have money.’ A debit card is not a fucking credit card...! And I don’t even hate them. 90% of them are nice and smile and say thank you and say shit like ‘I really appreciate it’ because they think everyone complains to you. Everyone doesn’t. And it’s not just the old ladies, it’s the people that slide their cards wrong, or dig for change, or give you a thousand coupons, and they apologize, they are really truly fucking sorry about it too. But also it’s the fucking sports, it’s the fucking weather, it’s the bullshit... Oh and they’re nice too, usually... It’s just the job that’s a fucking joke. It’s the job. All it takes is the rare asshole to help you realize it. He’s the one that wakes you up. And you know what? I thank that guy. Because I kept telling everyone I was looking for something else, some beautiful job in the sky where I don’t have to deal with these boring fucking schmoes. But I’m not. I have nothing else and I don’t know how to get anything else. And you know what? I’ll probably just go home and cry and sleep and wait a week or two to get my ass out of bed and go look for an equivalent shit job. Because it’s all that I can get because it’s all that I’ve--- Anyway, thanks for being a friend here. But I doubt I’ll see you again. Nite.”