it’s time to drop out

i have a moral defect

my radar is broken in all the wrong places

like a watch that loses 22.5 seconds randomly

i pass out trust and friendship and compassion

like the arrogant unremarkable drug guy

who got the ladies through lsd and blow

in the end he was alone despite his best attempts

everytime i try, i let them in, my heart snaps

they all want something:

she wants to feel superior, so give me a call and let me know how stupid i am

he wants to have someone around when the world seems to crumble

she wants a momma to fix life and tell her everyday “go get ’em champ’

then him then him then her then them then they then then then then

but in the hospital there are just two of us

there aren’t phone calls asking how shit’s going

there is no phone calls or emails

there isn’t even a kindly fuck yourself postcard

it’s been like this as long as i have been me

i have been the gal to get it done in the name of relationship

but once accomplished there is no room for my crazy

i am not taking applications anymore

i don’t want to gab on the phone

i don’t want your bullshit

i don’t want lectures of my sub-par intellect

i don’t want to care for your kids so much you drag me through the dirt

mine is not a circus freak show for the pleasure of the bored and over-literate





soak in the water to clean your soul

the loneliness is bitter enough

to break the best built psyches

it is acidic-torture, leaving nothing

but burned blistered broken heart

those few proven loyal friends

they are found on television reading

the best mediocrity has to offer

but it is something, anything

superficial empathy, glazed words hiding truth

i am a miscreant, i am a chimera

those who take oaths and pledge love and loyalty

those i trusted to lock arms with

comrades are the first to be busy

alliances forged through epic battles of morality

but allies can be compromised and contracts burned

before the smoke clears the legions

those once brothers and sisters

stand at the ready to destroy

once seen there is no self delusion left

the only course of action is to decide how to

make your final bow





sometimes it’s better to bring a friend

it’s become a roller coaster

my life or what is left of the my in me

a roller coaster with loop-t-loops

giant mountains to click up slowly

there was a time worlds ago

or maybe worlds times ago

the free-fall down the orgasm

leaving a shaky kneed woman

in desperate need of a cigarette

the open air cluster of railroad cars

would stop at the appropriate platform

all passengers would exit-even me

leaving trails of giggles and squeals, virgin joy

i would walk, watching the people

mommy and daddy holding toddler’s hands

those girls and boys attempting

to catch the eye and various other anatomy

some succeeding quickly, fucking in the bushes

others pinned to walls or on the merry-go-round

the smell of bacon, fried food, beer and fear

permeated everything, everyone

i walked through “the house of honesty”

where the mirrors never lie

showing the viewers only flaws

driving the sane to rubbish

because inside everyone lives a demon or two

i paid my coin to the beautiful man

climbed inside the spinning wheel of divinity

a circle of orbs made of bamboo bars

the roof an ancient leather pulled taunt

a drum beat started pulsing

the vibrations shaking primal

setting into motion

the pod, the me, the earth, the galaxy

flora and fauna, the mystic, the naysayer

the gods and goddesses, humanity

all energy, all matter fixed and condensed

shaken not stirred for a second in time

there were sights never seen by human eyes

voices singing songs from other dimensions

walking for days, months, years

elvis the exit had left the building

the sun rising and setting but never darkness

finally the roller coaster again

“o my dear friend, to stir my passion

seduce me into self seduction…

let me see the world again swirling on your rails”

climbing on the heavy bar against my pelvis

the topless tram chugged forward

and the world faded away

i was there, alone, deserted

with no control, my life void of living

i only see the world flying by

small dots of others

skittering and scattering

doing things the living do

i live away from that

despite desire and despair i ride

because what do you do

when the roller coaster

doesn’t stop for you


i was captured and locked away

i am a prisoner of war

my reckless stupidity and naivety

grabs my hair sending me flying

i can feel the gypsum board crack

it reverberates through all of me

i feel hands squeezing my throat

squeezing tighter and tighter

like trying to get blood from a stone

my lips turning blue and a smile of respite

a reprieve, indefinite furlough

naked to all and defenseless

my body is my holding cell

chains and bondage are unnecessary

hide-outs, rendezvous points

awards, grids and toasts

are for the armies and the lackluster

as for me, i just endure, exist

survival is the only option i have

perhaps it’s stockholm syndrome


patty hearst’s story is romantic

for a moment or year

maybe real, maybe fairytales

she burned with passion

but i was captured by me

and me alone

i have felt times of vibrant elation

i have been branded from birth

i cry rivers and scream in hysterics

my desire, my most coveted

is peace and love

beseeching, pleading, praying

my forehead forever on the ground

i am bleeding and it will never stop

there is nothing tantalizing in that




the face in the mirror is not mine

there is no truth sung from mouths

untold stories and indecent acts of forgetfulness

building grand mansions and r0lling estates

are the treasures of the economic scoundrel

but everyone can survive without nike and nestlee

the untruths told by known liars are job requirement

it’s the loves that break the insides apart

the loves stir passion and fear

a never ending changing of the guard

i have always heard or perhaps read it in a hallmark card

“a broken heart will mend”

what about a heart that has been shattered

can a heart be replaced by a cold instrument

i wish on every shooting star that could be

take away the ugly and the inferior

take away my defects that repulse 7 billion people

take away the desire to be loved

take away the desire to love

my place will be quietly in the shadows

until i am a raindrop


blood on the calla lily is a marvelous memory

i had a dream

so vivid, so clear, so lucid

my senses so provoked, so deranged

i cannot say for sure it was a dream or omen

i was wondering around

window shopping and people analyzing

the later of which i am known to do

even in the world outside of my dreams

but i loathe shopping-window or otherwise….

forgive me i lost my thought train…the dream

i was surrounded by steel and glass and concrete

i turned left or maybe it was right

but if it were right it was at the wrong place

my dream me wandered and wondered

then skipped and sang, whirling and twirling

because in dreams you can run even without legs

i must have walked thousands of dream miles

i must have walked for hundreds of dream days

the glass and concrete crumbled

there had been an epic battle

the passionate animated fighting the cold artificial

and by the looks of it all, the victor was the living things

there were groves of oak trees, ancient and warm

the grass was green and moist, soft under my feet

i could smell the sweetness of lilac and wisteria

there were bits of mistletoe hanging from branches

tiny hills of berries and nuts gathered on the path

i found refuge and rejuvenation and happiness

i spent time talking to life and listening as it replied

it was a spot of serenity, a retreat, but not home

and home was an unavoidable place

the way home was solemn and dour

as i walked ahead, painted people emerged

some in masks with sequence

some wearing the faces of animals

people dressed as nymphs and fairies

still others had simply painted smiles from ear to ear

i knew them all, even with their faces disguised

they were people i loved

they were people who said they loved me

friends and family descending on me

attacking like wolves on a deer

ripping me apart, gouging my eyes

crushing my trachea

joyfully leaving me there

to die properly and clean up when i finished

who do you talk to when the wizard of oz is not home

o i wish i had the power to transform

better yet the power to conform

i want to be made of play-dough

a mojo combo of flour, water, oil and salt

dyed a lovely yellow or mellow purple

as to not offend the eyes of others

but that ain’t real and never will be

it’s cold outside of life

and everyone looks the same from behind

begging and pleading has just scuffed my knees

attempting atonement for sins unknown

is a lavish regurgitation and flagellation of ego

i was born a derelict

keeping company with the best of pariahs

a slow decay and a quick tongue remain

i would have liked to be better

i would have liked to be pretty and dumb

i would have liked to never know consequences

i would have liked to live in a world painted by others

but my liking and my living have never jived