.

I can't write anymore, God
I think it's your fault
You've dropped me in this strange universe
Where nothing ever makes since
You expected me to be sane
You expected me to be sane! With all these crazy people running around
I can't write anymore, God
It's all your fault
All I can think about is you!
I can't concentrate on writing!
I can only write about love
I can only write about love and hate
How much I love hate
How much I hate you because my mind won't give me things to write about
And you gave me this dirty mind!
No one can think pure thoughts with a dirty mind
Oh, what were you thinking?
I don't know how to put on a show, God!
I only know how to eat
And fuck
And get high
And sleep
I don't know how to write anymore

Webster forgot

They dropped like flies
Like flies over a 3 day old cadaver in sunlight
She cried like a baby
Curled up on her unmade mattress and clenched a pillow tight just looking for answers
Answers her past nor future would ever uncover for her
Answers she still hasn't found, and the plot thickens, and it makes less and less sense every day
Why, when, where, what, how, but mostly why
Why things happen in order and repetition
Why she feels like she's faking and why she has the ability to sense how everyone else is too
No man or woman or therapy session can give her comfort
Like the comfort she gets from seeing life being given and taken away all around her
No jewelry or money or holy book can give her comfort
Like the comfort she gets from knowing that humans are the same as animals
We are all weak, we are all making up excuses and trying to find something to keep us occupied and get us paid in money or love
We are all waiting
Putting labels on every small insignificant little thing, in attempt to make it real and meaningful, so that someone somewhere will appreciate it and pursue it, getting them sidetrack from remembering that we are all waiting to die
We have so much free time and, what to do with it, but fall in love and have children, earn jobs and homes and get pets and give our lives meaning while we wait to die
We will go to a church and sit on a bench and listen to a man give sermons so he can collect our money and make us feel like we have something to look forward to while we wait
I am bored, I am tired of waiting
But I refuse to give in, because I know what so many people neglect to acknowledge and understand
We are waiting around to die and we are looking for answers, like the little girl in her shattered home, or the chubby boy in his mansion
Whether you realize it or not, all men are not created equal, and they never have been, and they never will be
But once in a dream, I risked my life to save an animal
Once in a dream, I placed my poor, unkempt hair on the satin of a rich man's pillow
Who is to say that we deserve better, if we deserve anything at all
If being born entitles us to deserving good things, then why do we work for money?
She is still in her room, laying on that mattress, searching through every figment in her mind, for some answers
Only now, she has met a boy, who although cannot answer her questions, can provide her comfort and solace, and he has distracted her, so she doesn't always think about how she's waiting to die
That's what real happiness is

Iffy

In a world where broken promises are welcomed
And being mistreated means you're loved
Why can't I survive alone
When sheep are playing poker
And wolves are writing law books
The ocean is filled with death
The sky has turned morose
Memaw died and took her garden with her
If what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger
Then why does what kills me, make me dead
If what doesn't eat me, keeps me alive
Then why does what kills me, make me dead
When mice are burying bodies
And lions are giving the eulogies
The land is filled with toxins
The mind is filled with artificial flavor
If I have to alter my mind
To expand my mind
I want to eat my steak raw
I'll grow my own garden
I'll teach my own kids
I'll make my own clothes
I'll kill my own self
Laugh at me now, "friend"

Been there

Put your bib on,
Get your fork and spoon ready
I'm making dinner, bitches
And I'm not making spaghetti
I'm setting out a plate
Making you eat all your words
I'm sick of being stepped on
Revenge is for dessert
My apron is stitched of cotton
Picked by dirty hands under a hot sun
Your parents always spoiled you
Never working, you're their only one
In this kitchen, you'll learn respect
How to cook, clean, and behave
These are words you need to abide by
You need to take them to your grave
We don't need the bible, we don't need a handbook
Just let me put you through some hard times
And you'll come out, with dirty hands, but you'll stop judging books by their spines

Wonder.

Hey girl
You're lookin pretty today
Hey girl
Why did your friends go away?
Little girl
Did you lead them astray?
Silly girl

Hey boy
I heard you wanted a friend
Hey boy
I've got some houses to mend
I don't have time for you
Silly boy

Writing again to you, girl
The queen of the entire world
You're only keeping secrets from the walls
Why don't you get some help?
Silly girl
Why did you come all the way out here?
And just when did I bid you farewell?
You are making bad choices in that golden castle of yours,
Little girl
And that silly boy you keep around is too

Babe?

It always starts with a glance
As it did
And ends with purpose
But not with reason
It doesn't always end, though
You are hand painted
I swear you are
I can feel your seams loosen
As you breathe in
And tighten when you exhale
I love seeing those
Old wrinkly couples exchanging glances through
Coffee and bifocals and magazines
Used to each other
They're just used to each other and
They don't want to get used to anyone else
So they stay with each other and
They mix well
Like a margarita, I know you know all about those, eh?
I can't wait to find out
I can't wait to tell you
I can't wait to find out if you're
Really the garden that
Speaks to my soul
It is peaceful, you are blessing
I want to buy you a mountain

Dove.

I could feel his thoughts
Through his fingertips
Sheer torture in his eyes
The best fucking kind
Beer stained shorts and
Back porch arguments
This feels like home
Too much like home
I never liked being home
But, I like being with you
I know it's not right
But that's what makes it so right
The nervous pit in my stomach
More red than one of a cherry's
But vibes of steel
Euphoric visions
But an all natural high
You're like a piece of chocolate
I'm fighting these temptations
Fill my void, darling
Fill my void