Monday, February 28, 2011

Friday, February 25, 2011

a cartographer perfected her craft
found the sonnets of Lazarus next to a series of of torn maps
leading down a drain of a warm bath
wiped grape jelly off of broke glass 
we found sitting on the flowers he left in the trash
I dont care if I’m a poor boy
emotionally inept and devoid
of killing sweetly with practiced poise
of dreamless wakes in a casket cascades
awoken on my bed from a sad noise
of you screamin down the stairs in your mother’s voice
i can repeat how you’ll be okay
just repeat what keeps up apart you do them every day.
she wipes the drool off the side of my mouth
put out my cigarette before I burnt down her house.
im not awoken by no sad noise now
from tops of stairs to the bowels of hell
satan got me, you bought the souls from kids
on a playground you got mine for a G.I Joe and two fun-dips
they hate you now for the care you give
i hate you cause it is imperative
when people said I should know better
i convinced you to let me prove them wrong
you kept it out of our public lives
boasted balances of dark and white
go out west to get clean, i can stay off drugs but i’ll still drink
but i dont want you to take care of me
got q-tips and keratin
why use water from the toilet when you can use it from the sink?
why miss anything when you dont gotta think.
and you’re always on top of everything
and i like your dirty feet
and this sucks because i do not wanna mess up my streak
but you make me food which i dont eat
they laid out a bunch beside the bed
and you don't know how much you did
so now you wont let me leave
cause you're afraid you might get sick
and I like how you never smile
and we’ve shared alot so far.
dumb bitch i’m gonna stab you
im lookin for your sadness