satin gown
its raining
now its snowing
i can feel her in my brain
a scratch waiting for an itch
a broken window pane
if i call to her she will run
shouting catch me till she’s gone
a ghost without a promise
a forest without a fawn
she thinks red makes her sexy
i think that it does too
shes my little rose pedal
a violent colored hue
her color is all gone now
replaced with green and brown
i think she would like being buried in this
her favorite satin gown
The Dishes Need a Washing
The dishes need a washing
They’ve been in the sink since noon
Mother asked me to wash them
But I shan’t leave my room
The dishes need a washing
I’d do them if I weren’t so sad
I know mother will come home
And she will be quite mad
The dishes need a washing
Mother’s had it up to here
She should be home soon
I’m certain that she’s near
I heard mother come in
She’s home from the grove
Should I bonk her with a pan
And put her in the stove?
The dishes need a washing
I’ve cleaned none but this knife
And now that mother is home
I think I’ll take her life
Smokin’ Dope with Mama
city lights colored in with doubt
roll a cigarette and then put it out
I can’t stand living and I can’t stand rain
I can’t stand mama and I can’t stand pain
came inside to flowers on the window
left it open all night so we could hear the wind blow
laid down to wonder if tonight I’ll sleep
and maybe this once I won’t hear her weep
bang her up against the wall, maybe make her cum
keep on hitting her until she feels numb
is it really you I’m hitting, or maybe is it me
maybe I’ll go outside and hang myself from a tree
dirty leather shoes and an unpaid check
newly covered holes and a liquor store wreck
tilt that bottle back till it hurts my brain,
send me down to Havana to cut some sugar cane
so I set out now, out on my own
back against the stall, just another unknown
teeth all alight, like a sidewalk-bound piranha
don’t worry about me, I’m here smokin’ dope with mama
Ship Rat
Ship Rat Ship Rat
Why you comin’ in my home
I left you on the SS Grenadine
So that I could be alone
Ship Rat Ship Rat
We sure had some fun
But when I’m getting’ up for work
You’re hidin’ from the sun
At first I believed you
When you told me you had friends
But I ain’t seen a single soul
Since you moved to the East End
Maybe I wouldn’t get so cross
If you could hold a job
But every boss you ever had
Called you nothin’ but slob
Ship Rat Ship Rat
You do nothin’ but let me down
I gave you money to buy some food
But you came back with brown
Ship Rat Ship Rat
I think that it’s high time
You stop sleepin’ with my wife
& drinkin’ all my wine
I saw her in my dream the other night, staring at me from a second-story window. She looked down on me as I wandered the fog-covered street in the early morning, looking for something I had lost, with little knowledge as to what it was. I pretended she was not there, much like I have done in real life, and continued to walk on. But her gaze kept me from leaving. No matter how desperately I tried to round the corner, I could not bring my feet to make the journey. Her eyes, soulless in their appearance, a product of my indifference, had captured and controlled me. I was now a slave to her stare.
The fog began to whirl about, my heart growing weaker with each click of my heel on the pavement. And I awoke with a start, desperate to go back to that dream, where I knew she could see me, even if I did not want to see her.
The White Wall
I had a painting
It hung from the white wall
I awoke this morning
To find nothing there at all
I looked through the cupboards
To no avail
I went from room to room
With creeping doubt that I would fail
I stepped out my door
To try and clear my head
But behind my eyes
It seemed everything was dead
I had a painting
It hung from the white wall
I awoke this morning
To find nothing there at all
So as she walked the solemn sounds and mists of manor she did see.
And while twirling about she sang a song, a saccharine melody.
“My life may end, my skin may rot,” she did shout with glee.
“But so long as my bones stay white I shall remain pretty as can be.”
