It’s the bird, it must have been the bird
Disgusting critter, it must
We should have known better then trust
This disease infested ball of lust and carnage
Piece of garbage with wings and she has the guts to sing
Get the bird, catch her shoot her, I don’t care Get the bird, bring her down to the ground from out the air
Gotta tear her apart, let me at her first
Sink her to the level of the rest of us that inherit the earth
What’s she thinking? does she really believe
That she’s above the creatures that work the dirt and the streets
See her up in the tree, looking down at you and me
Like she’s chosen over those that walk around on two feet The bird, the melodies she play
The music she make, rubbing our faces in the feces of the daybreak
Trying to remind us, it’s time to awake
Antagonizing and instigating my hate
The chirps, I turn them into screams
My feathered friend’s end will justify the means Disturbed, I’ll grab her by her beak
And swing her in circles until she’s too dizzy to speak
Well I’ll shake her from her branch, tear apart her nest
Break her skinny legs and fry her eggs up for breakfast
(She’s a snake that can fly) she’s just food for the fleas
She thinks she’s better then me just because she’s free?
I’ll shake her from her branch, tear apart her nest
Break her skinny legs and fry her eggs up for breakfast
(She’s a snake that can fly) she’s just food for the fleas
She thinks she’s better then me just because she’s free?
My beautiful bird has gone away
This is for Sunrise.
very strange thoughts today.
The things I could tell you.
The things
I
could
tell you.
you will never know the creatures
traveling the synapses
in this headmaze
the things that have been mine
the nights I’ve spent
the infinite mess
tangled in my veins
—————————-
(that was a bit of a free-write)
I alternate between writing these super happy nostalgic poems, and psychotic creepy ones.
this first one is going to make you sick but it was fun to write. Also it is very inaccurate. I was a tomboy when I was a kid. I got into fights with boys.
example number 1
Elementary, My Dear
I am reduced
to grade-school levels of
puppy love
check yes or no
crayon hearts on the wall
no one around to
make me scrub them off
give me a dandelion and
I will write about it
in my diary,
hide the key under my mattress
let’s build a blanket fort
let’s climb a tree
while they chant the spelling
that makes us blush
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
let’s drink milkshakes
from the same glass,
then make our parents pay for them
when they tell us we’re
too young to date
—
compare that with this,
—————–
example number two
Manners
she has a platter
and a glint in her eye
little miss fifties housewife
little miss fanged-doily
her voice is smooth
(try my patience!
or
try my patients!)
just what or who is she
offering you?
The slice is
pepto-bismol pink
you say to yourself,
“this looks ghastly,
but I mustn’t be impolite.”
she is ready
she is smiling
she hands you a fork
——–
I had a good talk with my friend yesterday. He’s in treatment for depression in Houston, shout-out to someone he met there who supposedly reads my blog: Emily A. L. emily? emily? are you out there???? thanks for reading 🙂
I was talking to my brother last night and it’s kind of sad when you’re surprised to see someone happy. I haven’t seen him happy since before I had my mental breakdown.
Sometimes I get these horrible flashbacks of the way his face looked when he was in absolute misery
because of me.
That’s actually the one reason I regret well… what happened last year. All the hell it put him through. And my parents, grandparents, and cousins. I also regret how public, and facebook-documented it all was.
