Chicken Scratch II

Chicken Scratch II. (A collection of older works)

ROTTEN CARROT

Life is but a dream!

Lettuce phase it
We are the young of
A scorned and murky past
Adults
Still playing house

Nothing will faze this
She cannot

Face this

He was aging
With an unloved
Mask of a face
Who drove a Harley
And took her for
The ride of her life
When she was 9 and

Much more

Before
When she was 4

Let's just erase it!

We are nightmares and
Evaporated tears
Disassociated into
The vast atmosphere
Always fucking the horror
As if we can seduce it
Into submission

She tried to race it

Dropped out while she was
Giving head

Standing in a seasoned
Song and dance
So merrily

Merrily suffering

Cute and cold
Like a snowman

Wanting the sun

MER PEOPLE

Once I had a vision

One ice had dimension
The touch was frozen pain
The result was lack of feeling

And I

Became a monster

A mermaid
Untouched by waves of apathy
I was numb inside the water
Until the water felt warm to me

I know longer shivered I
Shimmered
I was covered in a cold glimmering

Dream

My teeth didn't chatter I
Shattered
The world with primordial screams

As an immortal cold-blooded
Beast girl
Love was not in sight for me
At the edge of the world nothing matters
Frostbit black by the son

In the see

BEACHED

I don't think I can I... I think I might. I don't want to see the walking lie, buried in a flood of sickness, sucked inside by violent tides. I don't think I should I... I think I will. The way that faces blur in photos, the way that light can keep the past, it haunts my vision, bleeds my brain, reinforces that eternity is just a love that's fading fast. I fall underneath the demi-gods, I rest beside the shore, my heart is floating in sea-filled lungs, I'm breathing in the blood. And I don't think you can't I... I think you won't.

And I think I can't just lay here anymore.
And I think I just can't lie here anymore.

I'm composed I... decompose... Underneath the killing sun, that brings a world to life.
I decompose and I... suppose... That this is what is right.

HAMMERED

Us here
Royalty in despair
A queen touched and pulled
Scraped and bullied
Driven into the floor
Like a nail

Just hammered

Driven up
A white wall
The delirium in
Her smile
Colors her eyes

Enamoured

Her king so other worldly
His heart sew Yesterday
Too out of touch to snip the threads
To free him
Too out of love to bring him back
Today

Just a patch on the past
Just a nail in the floor

Stuck drunk and
Too board to
Fix it

Us here
A kingdom in ruins
Just a punk and
His whore

When our costumes got
Two dirty
We couldn't wear them
Anymore

BABY

Won to Three

I wish I was a white skinned
Red-lipped
Blue eyed girl
With a gold-plated smile
And a silver scent
To sniff out the 95 in your lies

I had to scribble my name
About a hundred times
With a rock on the sidewalk
With a pen
On my hand
(With my nail
On your skin)
Before I felt like myself
Again

Two for sex

Choking in the upheaval
Of circumstance
I am
Just a bitch
With a face
That looks like
A faint reflection
Distorted
In a water glass
With a duress
Acquired through
The bullshit in your
Fucking

(Remind me how to
Dream without drinking)

Of course, I'm young
You could say
Barely alive

A baby almost

But not yours


THE SOUNDS OF A DAY

Slip deep into the little sounds that make a day go by, and find yourself in the middle of the universe with all the heroes who have died. I told the ghost of Superman not to save me when I was caged by the echoes of a sad disease. I said, "Superman, if you try I'll bash my head against the wall and step inside your life." He just looked at me and sighed, then disappeared back into some child's mind.

What have I done? Oh what have I done?

The cars go by, the minutes waste, my stomach growls, my heart beats to keep the machine alive. These things, everything, just to keep the machine alive.

Screaming knives and violent eyes with violet subservient lullabyes, a touch of death, a loss of faith, a dismissal of love, just to keep the machine alive.

The quickness of a rotten moment sneaking into time is faster than the speed of light and larger than Godzilla. It destroys the cities in my world, forces the eyes into apocolypse vision. You walk outside one day and everything, just everything is dirty or broken.

How did this happen? Oh how did this happen?

I gave up before the sun came up.

I tried to make it without heroes. I tried to make it without weapons. I tried to alter reality to my liking, imagine myself outside the cage. I was strong for a moment, then I started to feel myself slip away, into the sounds of a day.

My ghost disappears into a child's mind.

FOR YOUR SINS

I cut up the sun into little star shapes and dressed my house in them. My house caught on fire and I felt the burn of Satan's wicked beauty. I love the way this numbness feels. Myself, I am a writing eel out of water, seething in this one true gold, (I have a mind that feels so old). The wrinkles in my skin start to bleed and as I burn I can see God in the red puddle on the floor. I say to Him, "Oh God oh Lord I just can't take anymore! My left hand is growing bigger t han the Universe!", and he says:::: Dear child, I do not exist and;;;;

I say

""""God I know your lies are just a trick""""

BurnburnbleedburnbleedbleedbleedthisheavenisallI'lleverneed.

ABC'S

We see
A Child and their naked games
And
Adults dressing up as if they know what it's like to

B
Holaccosted
And
Stung by the sting we sing

Fuck you
And your little girl games
Your bold vaginal ways
And your bald pineal aggression
Philosopheyeing
The way stupid sluts
Long to be raped

(God you look like such
A cunt in your diaper dresses)

Why don't you just
Go out and get laid
And
Stop pretending to be a real boy?

Just look and
C
Cinderella is covered in pumpkin seeds
And
Goldilocks is torn to bloody pieces
By an angry little bear.

DEADFACE

Vacant possessive Man hands
Molestation mistaken for Desire
As if I wasn't any girl
And wasn't just a fucking CUNT
To U.

But I know the relationship
Between a stamen and
AROSE
And I know the power of
The Sun
And your lies are
Written all over your I's
End...
Your mind is diseased with
Sex and Buddha.

If I had a cock
I'd rape you up the ass
REAL hard
Pull out your rectum
And watch you walk around with it
Between your mutt-legs
And then I would laugh
And ask you
"How does it feel?"

Be very careful with me
Babydarlingloverboy

Asshole

I have a vicious intellect
A strategy mapped out in my mind
That I don't waste on things like
Chess

A revenge so sweet it makes me sick
I could kill you
And find love in your blood

And

Peace on your Deadface.

THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS

Scum fuck bum in the corner pissing on concrete oh baby I wish I was you cuz your drunken carelessness is so goddamn cool and maybe we could get married cuz I'm a sidewalk shitter and I don't give a fuck. Let's fall in love and you can beat me and I can scream in your ear sounding like the world's largest buzzing CICADA but you won't kill me cuz then you can't FUCK me.

(My volatile behavior may not be wrong or right but I know what I have to tell myself to be extricated from a perpetual demise that is comfort.)

Must I be an icon to my own relentless self? An image that has an autobiography? A person with pain? Someone who slipped through the cracks? Not a lawyer. Not a doctor. Never a wife or mother.

I refuse to be human. I refuse to understand the pretense that is communication between one and another when a person is a country with their own set of laws and their own tongue, and their own rotten fucking politics. I refuse to sign the treaty. I will not end this war when a person hates a person underneath the delusion of this tyrant we call LOVE.

I will not SMILE AND NOD.

PET

Filthy diseased misbehaving
Rabid goat-faced daemon
With the light of
Heaven
Oozing out of your eyes

I will squash you
With these dancing shoes
I will watch you
Bleed out the Evil
In an Angel's secret body

And like a dog
I will lap it up
With my sloppy tongue
And call myself
"Jesus"

And
(Mr. Goatface Hellsoul)
You will be
My lamb.

EASE

Ease my mind with a cold metal rod, because a pillow never works and the silly sun through my purple eyes is just a cancer in my heart and I cannot flip that switch without sawing through a bone which is something I refuse to do because

I don't really know if I can heal anymore with this autoimmune disorder called Living. (This could be a throwback to a surreal time when I had butterflies and enemies in my mind, self seeping into days past a memory of you like acid reflux. Fuck. You are the most un-inlove creature I have ever met, but when I watch you climb dinosaurs I must admit, I love you very deeply, like someone, somewhere loved a man named Hitler.)

That little smile, chaaaa... grin on your face must be erased in a vehement effort on my behalf to eliminate you from the opportunity of Presence, even behind Memory's bitter bars. Because you don't deserve any gifts.

And anyways I'm sitting here listening to the Past not understanding how to remember time between Us and Now, and I feel detached and unsympathetic, like a brilliant sociopath committing suicide in some attempt to feel empathetic but

The Death is The Cure and I remember our futle attempts at fame in our heads cuz we were...

Really something else.

DEAR LOVELY

Dear Lovely
Has shit in her head
Cannot CONTROL
The bowel movements
Of her brain
Has castrated
The only Power
The 1 Love
Surrounding her
Soiled nostalgic
Existence
That bears significant
Resemblence
To Never-Time

Dear Lovely
Is Ancient and
Feels shrinkingly small
Like a maggot-baby
Trying to reach
For a cookie
In an empty house
That does not exist
Trying to speak
So she can say
"I love you Daddy"
To a face

She is the kind of animal
That screams
"Help me, I'm drowning!"
In the middle of a desert

Dear Lovely is temporary
But she will not die.

GOING BACK

There is nothing here but the tedious drag of empty seconds, memories of cavities like caves with jagged walls that are too sharp to touch. I remember this aching. A solitude so slow it leans in and kisses me like ice on a hot summer day. And then I fall in Love. Ultimately unconsciously numb skin so dead that a cut never bleeds. Head so gone I see roses spill from my wounds instead, onto the carpet, and the isolation turns reality into a winter wonderland only I can see.

An ancient stillborn comatose heart stitched inside, made of cloth and filled with moths IamtheghostthathauntsthishollowplacewhichIdespise.