Friday, February 8

Just another, Just another
One another
Perfect weather
Perfect storm
Leaving home
Arm in arm
Shot in arm
Deaf alarm
What a charm
Find a balm
Run a farm
Mean no harm
I'm a lady
I'm not shady
I'm a man
Just a ham

Its all a sham

Saturday, March 15

metro musings

just a trashy love song from a forgettable movie
and the stars come crashing down
like myriad fireworks
exploding your world
touching you not
missing by a whisker

and you stand watch
through the light

to stay alive
and let the deafening din
the senseless screaming
for a while

like the pretty pink sky
finds respite
from its habitual dark duvet
and a whiff of warmth
drifts through
cold nerve ends

now half the clasped hand
funny fingers
tapping a beat

the best you could do
though you tried
oh so hard
but never learnt
to fly

"the greatest miracle is to be happy" (Santana, HK, 7th March 2008)

Monday, January 21


this is Kafka's sky
not yours or mine
thick dark thoughts
slowly catching
the dying dazzle
of day's end

sycamore silhouette
a sinister single

spiralling steadily
into that tidy cocoon
nestled in steel white grip
of muddy root
that dug its way in
to feed
on the heart of the
unborn butterfly

Wednesday, December 12


Bang Bang
He shot me down

Kill Bill
Kill Jill

Kiss Miss
Kiss this

Can't do it

Can't scream
Can't dream

Can't fight
Can't write

Can't even bite

Shadows can't fear
The remains of the day
They hold the night
In sway

Dodge the moon
Its way too soon
For the light
To blight

the balmy blue blankness

Saturday, December 8


Steel grey dawn
Stone cold panic
A saturated

White curtain stillness
Mindless morning

My winter.

Monday, October 29

Just walk on by

caught a bird watching me from its cage
strange look in its eye

caught a baby staring at me wide eyed
how would I ever fathom that?

caught myself scowling at nothing in particular
no psychoanalysis required

it must be my teeth
my hair, my nose
my mind

definately not my shoes

look back

that wasn't me

just lines in my head

"it was just some jesus looking for a manger?"

Cohen's in a cocoon

"it ain't me babe, it ain't me your looking for.."

damned right Dylan

lets all eat popcorn instead.

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable and life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button girl
So cradle your head in your hands.
And breathe, just breathe, ooh breathe just breathe

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year
Here in town you can tell he's been down for while
But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him, maybe I'll just sing about it

2Am and I'm still awake writing a song
If I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me threaten' the life it belongs to.

Breathe 2am...Anna Nalick

Wednesday, October 10

before sunset

It was a beautiful day. Almost unreal in its clarity, colour and calmness.
Even smoking a cigarette felt like blasphemy lest it clouded the crispness and cool that had seized the air...and the light, oh the light like never before.

The blinds had been lifted.
The chores done. Lawn mowed to perfection. Oven scraped off the last remnants of burnt cookies. Every crease ironed out on the bedspread. Glasses spanking clean.

The fantasy was real.
Just me in here with everything I needed to feel good. And whole. And safe.
A ton of books, a breathing cactus and a stack of carefully picked movies. Even a bird chirping here and there and a cupboard full of my favourite CDs.

Time to browse my travel pictures or dabble with the oil on canvas I'd been planning so long.

All at my own time. Undisturbed. Unfettered.

No, I don't feel like talking. (can you stay out of my hair, please?)
No I don't remember being mean or particularly care how you feel (I need my space!)
If you think I'm a bitch thats your problem (feels good to be one occasionally :P)
I have other things on my mind (my life is a priority, you take care of yours)

I just want to be

Too early for a glass of wine. Some blueberry yoghurt would do nicely instead.
A brisk walk perhaps to spot some flowers.
This is my island.

The phone shall stay off the hook and the computer logged off.
No scope for frowns. No need for fixes.

I've always hated company and boredom. One and the same aren't they?

love makes me sick
friendship exhausts me
wants make me weak
hate haunts me

Lets dump the cliches for a while.

Wisdom and worship confound me. Now that could make for a novel! I'm getting there...

At a basic level, for me, anger stems from injustice, fear from emotion. Both depress me.

So I've packed the fragile soul in a paper cup and poured coffee into it.
Lukewarm coffee, that keeps me passive and plain.

I finally decided to be happy and ordinary.
I always thought I was the latter and never the former.
they always thought the reverse.
now I'm confused.

you say I'm neither
even in brief soporific moments
"Id rather be a hammer than a nail.."

if I could be halfway on each perhaps, that might do the trick

No more mindgames. Lets keep it simple.

eat when your hungry, sleep when your sad.
paint when your happy. run when your bad.

Nothing really matters. You believe that?
And if nothing matters- what is the point of it all?

Light fading. Chill descending.
Warm lamplit corner. Cosy sofa.

Good old christmas tree outside window catches my eye.
Awkward and rather forlorn I'd say, like it wants to come in but wouldn't intrude.
Must be cold or shy, or both.
It's not your time yet baby. Hang loose.
I did want you in my garden but not past the threshold.

Stop staring like that!

Would a box of tissues suffice?
Sentiment kills me. Do you see any photos on the wall?

back to my crossword puzzle

is bad for health
good for the mind?

hey tree- get a life
they'll all want you when its christmas

and then again when hell freezes over
peek in the mirror (I love my evil grin)

who said losers can't win?

Saturday, July 28


Sometimes its the end of the world
and sometimes its not

Sometimes you remember
What you thought you forgot

Sometimes the ogres
Are waiting to pounce
Sometimes the fairies
Grant you an ounce

Sometimes the treasure
Is a doorbell away
Sometimes the pleasure
Is here to stay

Sometimes the cracks
are gaping wide
Sometimes the fire
Is swept aside

and yet the leaves just smoulder
for every rock and boulder
you carry on your shoulder

as the weight just pulls you under
and all you hear is thunder
and the forest splits asunder
and the trees can't help but wonder

why you walked this way at all

perhaps it was to burn, laugh, play
with colours of the fall?

Friday, June 29


eenie meenie mynee mo
who came knocking at the door?

wide eyed froggy wet and sore
long faced doggie, cat eyed whore

chill eyed baby wanting more

wanting wanting
ranting panting
needing bleeding

weaving flowers
white and gold
counting sundrops
new and old

freshly frozen flowers blooming
winking moon and thunder looming
crickets buttercups
cherries cherubs

filtered brew
and cosy blue
on scattered sunday morning

whats your name
and whats your game

and where's my fifty days of fame?

you lost the plot
I ploughed the rot

you tossed a stone
I chewed the bone

can smell the cookies burning

lets catch some fish
or break a dish
and make the morning special
lets crack some eggs
and black some beans
and wrap our legs around us

the jam is gone
the evening long
i sang a song
that all went wrong

the lamb is here
never fear
dancing's on
the fever's gone


Tuesday, June 12

This has got to die


with one lip curled upwards
and eyes piercing the empty air
green lasers
shooting down

you're a hero
smashing every piece
of fine china
delicate to the bone

and cradling
your cuddly crocodile

and just smiling
to yourself
at the world
weaving its faithless
in blind fervour

such a pretty pink

and the water runs dry

what a great book

and the phone lines break

delightful meal

and the chill settles

and the inexorable distance

builds space

interminable waiting

creates calm

leashed longing

leans lazily

on a bed of indifference

and a pair of cool white teeth

beneath the grimace

conjure a confused


thou shalt be thine own worse enemy

if thee cannot be thine own best friend

still thinking

this has got to live?

Tuesday, May 8


You are lying and you don't know it

You want to be who you are not

You can't be where you don't want to be

I'm walking backwards

to where I never wanted to be

I'm racing forward

hoping for a crash

phonecalls drown the fire alarm

and save it for a rainy day

money buys toys

and a night at the bar

sleep buys oblivion

and anger destruction

the brain watches silently

as thoughts provoke

stifling seizures

shutting you down

in the middle of a mediocre


the rainbow is actually black

and if that's your favourite colour

you may as well chase it

and the pot of gold

is the jewellery

you never wear

so how about

hugging a tree

or scraping the dirt

for that rock

which inspires you?

Indifference is not comfort

Passion is not postponable

Dead birds don't fly

no matter when you knock

there's no reply

Saturday, April 28

It's time


you don't have to wait

for the sky to fall on your head
for the dust to be cleaned out
for the chores to be complete

no epiphany
no haze either
it's simple enough
because it can't wait

what is done is done

even eked out
in the name of practicality
for someone else's cause

rock hard
strewn by the wayside
as regular as a life
could be

tomorrow today yesterday
still creeping
"what about them"
and this
and that
and all the

I have all of me that I need
right now
right here

no clock
no rainbow
no messing around

the desert is beautiful
the sand unmarked
the heat unbearable
and the distance

as of now
I cannot speak
or hear
but I can see

high resolution
anti aliased

I will not move

But I will not
turn back

they say

when it's time
you will know

They were right.

Wednesday, April 18

Candles for Virginia

Mild misty morning
Touch of grey
Mythic peace
A mood building

Lazy stirring
under fateful bedspreads
Coffee and chatter
In the hallways

Class as usual
Smile as usual
Shrug as usual
Pain as usual

Walls awash with fear
Anger in a box
Smashing through
In Automatic black

Just another morning
for a stone facade
and bare trees
and death foretold

the green lawns were never there
It's still winter

For him
For us
It always will be.

Wednesday, April 4


Tweedledum: so that's what you think of me. A grasping insensitive loser
Tweedledee: how dare you- misunderstand again!
T'dum: and you're a nagging nuisance -
T'dee: after everything I did which you didn't even notice
T'dum: I didn't ask you to
T'dee: it was all for you and even then I knew it would come to this
T'dum: when did I say anything was wrong
T'dee: right, it's always me. throw it back
T'dum:I'm going to bed
T'dee:I'm off
T 'dum:zzzzz
T'dee: boo hoo
T'dum: mmmmm
T'dee: this time you really did spoil my nice new rattle

Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle!
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel!
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.'

(Lewis Carroll)

Thursday, March 29

The picture in my head

its rosebud time
a brilliant red
on silent snow
fresh white bed

ice maiden mirrored
kay and gerda
ditsy dwarves

by the pricking of my thumbs...

fairy tales
every day of our lives
from that ruined castle
up on high
to that lost city
oceans deep
hiding wet wild treasure

caught out for a magic moment
by a lone sunray
that shot right through the waves


into a world we never knew
was there for us

a slow bloom
apricot hues
turning to rich purple
time and tide
they say..

like the bruise on your knee
which is now
but a memory

like the princess
and her pop up book
every page
a new smile

the frog, the pea and the beanstalk
were all green
a nightingale
a scheming queen

the beast heads up the pack
the beast is finally back
the beast will find the crack

but the prince
the pretty prince
that precious petty prince

oh yes, the prince
the prince will paint it black

Thursday, March 15

9 crimes

tasting what you can't smell

mincing coffee beans with coriander

drinking red colour blind

eating before the kill

beating bubbles that won't burst

dancing to a dead tune

making love to lettuce

lying in bed alone

writing crap


this has got to die
i said this has got to stop
this has got to lie down
with someone else on top
you can keep me pinned
'cause it's easier to tease
but you can't paint
an elephant
quite as good as she ...

(Damien Rice- 9)

Thursday, March 8

more babies

babies are made of thin air
babies are made to scare
babies are made of DNA
that will make you really pay

babies will tickle you
babies will pickle you
drain you of all
savage sanity

they'll eat your mind dry
and watch you fry
in a pool of squalid screams
saying 'try me'

give it a miss
do without the kiss
forget they exist
take it off the list


while you still can

and all you have
are rotten grits
in a bowl of sour milk
swimming like lost spirits
drained an aeon ago
in a glassfull of ice cubes
that cut your throat to pieces
and killed the eggs you
craved for breakfast

Hello from the gutters of N.Y.C. which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood. Hello from the sewers of N.Y.C. which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of N.Y.C. and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed in the dried blood of the dead that has settled into the cracks...May 30,1977 David Berkowitz ("Son of Sam")

Sunday, February 25


floating in the air
dancing in my mind
swimming inside somewhere
waiting to be made

a clever ruse
a passionate ploy
a hopeful accident
or perhaps
real real......


our minds pressed and guarded
while our flesh disregarded
the lack of space for the light-hearted
in the boom that beats our drum

and i know i make you cry
i know sometimes you wanna die
but do you really feel alive without me?
if so be free
if not leave him for me
before one of us has
accidental babies
for we are ...

(Damien rice - accidental babies from 9)


The Lovers card affirms my alter ego is a port key to a Soul Mate or deal, whose superpower is compatibility in the midst of reconciling dichotomy to interconnect as a whole new entity or 'color.' To be or not to be: at ultimatum or rival tensions mounting, negotiating acceptable trade-offs validates our unique perspectives to reflect what each lacks for a balanced voice of truce. When we're together I'm beside myself, so I concede mutual vested interest, incentive or opportunity to my other half for valued consideration. For only by the power of self-respect in reciprocal vulnerability, need and compassion do 'me and thee consummate we.' The rest is all a dance on the sidelines of Cinderella Pandering or prohibition, or around a Bermuda Triangle of bottom line temptation to cheat by provocation, promiscuity, or shame. But here at the gate of impasse, I still have a choice and my pride..

(My daily tarot or is it carrot??)

Friday, February 16

Airport angst

Yet another one. Steel bars. Grey blue glass. Long walk to a grey blue sky.
What next?
Have I been here before?
Does that child scream in vain or because he recognised a face in the crowd or a ghost with a snowman grin?
"I'm here to swallow you up- are you ready for the magic?"

Floating through a numb haze of cataclysmic contours- people I believe- waiting, watching, worrying, wincing.
Peeping, leaping, weeping. No surfeit of tears here, or hugs.
Watching from my corner, the world playing itself out in a few square feet of fettered space- that could wrench you away from today- or coerce you back to where you belong?

Vacant eyes searching for no one, soothed by another's skirmish, amused at how simple it all can be. Right here. Everyday.
As lives change, bonds break with uniform montony under the steel beams shining on steadfastly. I would wait here forever and not go out. One iced caramel macchiatto and the memory of others.

Smoke in the cool air, black jacket hug, tired hair, shy eyes only half looking for more than a christmas tree.It's all purple today, like my cosy scarf and blueberry smoothie and my favourite hills at 4am and the picture of your veins by candlelight.

That's why we're here. For the colour. As it changes. As it dies. As it lived.

And when we yearn for it to be born again- it's of a different hue- and yet-
we recognise it and rejoice- though we can't call it our own-
like the snowman that melted- and the child who cried when it was gone.

Thursday, January 11

Beachside dummies

What was all that fuss about smashing pumpkins and blind melon?
You could get a pink pulpy papaya oozing its dubious fragrance and nutrients all across your now baby soft freckled skin rudely red with suntan copiously rubbed on ripe raw breasts by stiff strong fingers and a rough palm you readily chose- reaching for a miracle.

The sea looks beautiful today. Silvery smooth- a colour with no name under a blue blue sky drenched by an insistent yellow sun that casually bejewels it and burns the hapless sand chafing under you flaming feet as you you roar gently, sharp teeth gritted even as those thin thieving lips flash a beer soaked smile which may have been a grimace if not for the bikiniless bod nestled under an inviting orange umbrella just ahead...

Just spotted Daniel Craig hiding with a clandestine coconut cocktail (knew he hated martinis) under a rustic palm dried thatch, coy black striped towel hanging loose over a splash of crimson- (time he got his colours done- a pale peach perhaps to set off the wild weathered muscle) and a couple of covert tattoos thrown in- oh well...time for a dark rum and chilly beef then,need enough fire on my tongue to numb it black - before I use it again.

Jeremy Brett could have lost his nerve here- so many sundried carcasses burning in blissfully abandoned isolation- and your speckled back. Oh yes. Infamously scarred. I'll pass up the fangs, thank you.

Crushed ice in fake crystal, candid canopies calling for candied cunts, catch of the day in a cool coffer of cannabis, crab legs cushioned on a crackling grill, cloying canteloupe, cold cream on cracked contours, casting coy glances at cleavage and curves and clever cameras (clicking clouds?)
All the comfortable cliches you came here to find.

Blonde, black, brown ,beige, baffled, bemused, blistered, beautiful people- chasing a day with no thought, no chores, no ego- waiting for a glimpse of nirvana on an imagined shore busier than their lamplit study where scant hope floats.
Purple shades and a picture packed glossy-

these old thighs are meant for lazing
these old eyes are meant for gazing
all these highs are just for glazing

death by dire chocolate

I Me Mine

Happy new year!

Monday, December 11


a cold long wait
or a warm inviting one
lilting along a luminous lullaby
loving every little linger
along the lonely winding winterway

for all you who sleep tonight
for all you who weep tonight
for all you who creep into
furrowed familiar facades
of formidable futures
fashioned by soft sweet fingers
feeling for fantasies
fallen by the wayside

am I freaking you out?

Hannibal just offered me a slice of pie
requiem for a redolent lie

I'm just here to die
smile sweetheart and ask me why
as the smoke muses merrily up
to a rough brown sky
arms wide open
lips sealed
to a lost pipe
you claimed was all yours

as I grimace at the rotting tobacco
rife with the smell of last night
lost night
lost fight
last bite

and you just might
but not quite

find a piece of me
on your windscreen
glimpse a touch of me
through your smokecreen
taste a bit of me
on your coffee cup
waste a lot of me
as you fuck up.

Tuesday, November 7

When you know and you don't

We always knew
It would come to this
like a brand new end
to a fairytale
that never was

and with every new slash
and every bit of sticky
viscous red
you wish it was just a new day
with no yesterdays
that scream on forever and ever

cling on like the rotten stench
of puke
you promised you'd clean up
and leave but a whiff of
fresh paint
dark untrodden corridoors

and a sketchbook
white as snow


only for you

like the goldfish
lying strangled
without reason
without fear
always near

and shining

carefully carelessly

Sunday, October 15

dead or alive

why are we here?

for me or for them?

why do we laugh?

because we remember or forget?

why do we hurt?

because we want to smile again?

why do we rage?

because we need them?

why are we dead?

because we did none of the above


carnival night

I'm here

and not there

not quite anyway

not white

not black

no spite

just quiet

with a beer

and no bite

people milling

tautly willing


cobbled streets

dubious feet

downing wheat

smiling sweet

crunching meat




a new world

gently curled


around the edges

of her new summer dress

pink with pain

no room for a brain


again and again

trying in vain

to get home

to what never was

hoegarden on the house

any takers?

Tuesday, October 10


The sky was darkening
in a way she loved
the sun was dead
high up above

her eyes were barely open
hard work
on a pointless afternoon

resurfacing quirks

need to be shelved

and of course I can't write anymore

because when it happens
it's more than it ever was
or will be


I need to frown
and say

I do.



Get back in there
stay put
sweet murder is afoot

don't make a sound
don't move
stay numb
right in your groove

they will not let you cry
just slowly watch you fry
they will not let you try
yet they will not let you die

toss the syringe
fetch the quack
blind him
till he can't look back

Happy Birthday John

Tuesday, October 3

Coldwater Morning

He stared and stared. Squinting at a dazed new day. He wasn't quite sure where he was. The air smelt good. Like freshly churned butter.

His breath was regular, unfettered. His skin tingled with a sense of wonder. Had it been sleeping this long? What was he missing? The throbbing nerves in his temples? Why were they suddenly so still, like butterflies long flown -
and you wondered, had they ever really been there?

He recognised the strains of a fugue playing in his head- how long since his fingers were alive and making music? Seemed easy enough then, and again... today. Yes he would. After a hearty eggs and bacon fill. Curl up on the window ledge with the Sunday Philosophy Club that had been lying invitingly untouched for months. It seemed like the right time. He may even fish out his old sketchbook and a bunch of crayons and laugh at his scribbled attempts at turning his heart inside out.

Laugh? Wow!

Just the thought made him shake his head in sheer amazement. He smiled self consciously at the imaginary bird on the steadfast tree outside and ambled over to the front door to pick up the newspaper.It wasn't there. Pity. Just when he'd actually looked forward to reading it rather than moon through BBC world while switching channels in half baked hysteria on the much maddening tv set.

Yes he would enjoy the quiet for a bit. The deadening dullness of daily dark thoughts seemed to have gone into hiding, and his mind felt empty and crisp. Waiting for lush new fodder - but not quite hungry yet.

Had someone worked a spell on him? It wasn't the pills. That felt different. His steps were slow and steady. Fetching tea and sipping it gently from a steaming blue cup, he realised he hadn't even bothered to log on to email, as was the inevitably obsessive ritual everyday when his eyes opened, over that first cigarette.

The tea actually tasted better without the smoke. Or perhaps it was just the change and his unclogged nostrils. He leaned back on the couch sniffing the air to detect a difference, glanced at the doorknob which he seemed to notice for the first time - stretched lazily and tapped and rubbed the soles of his feet on the cool cracked leather- puzzled and pleased. What was that old joke about the dog and the bone? Whoever said the dog couldn't be happy without? He would write a better one. A whole book perhaps. Or maybe a song?

This was getting more and more intrigueing. He would make this a day to remember. Hold on to it while it lasts and make it special. Wear his favourite purple lambswool jumper-pretend it was his favourite time of year, put up a few postcards and pop some rich dark ale and listen to a game on radio. No TV today. He grinned excitedly at the thought again.

It was time.

He looked out across the horizon. There was not a speck of darkness. Nor light. No.

But yes, it was morning

Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see-
Im just a poor boy,i need no sympathy-
Because Im easy come,easy go,
A little high,little low,
Anyway the wind blows,doesnt really matter to me,
To me

(Freddie Mercury- A Bohemian Rhapsody)

Thursday, September 28

Tough choices

when your life's a fairytale
when your heart's on email
when your mind's asail
on the boat to nowhere

savour the punch
flavour the lunch
roll a fresh fag
bleed the last drag

catch me a lemon
crack me the weed
gift me your best
kick me the seed

when was it morning
when was it night
when is the right time
to pick a good fight?

float me a fable
a la clark gable
wish me a moonflake
I'd never forsake

fireworks tonight
head feels the bite
tongue drips the spite
eyes fade the light


Stay (Wright, Waters)

Stay and help me to end the day.
And if you don't mind,
We'll break a bottle of wine.
Stick around and maybe we'll put one down,
Because I wanna find what lies behind those eyes.
Midnight blue burning gold.
A yellow moon is growing cold.

I rise, looking through my morning eyes,
Surprised to find you by my side.
Rack my brain to try to remember your name
To find the words to tell you good-bye.
Morning dues.
Newborn day.
Midnight blue turned to gray.
Midnight blue burning gold.
A yellow moon is growing cold.

(from 'Obscured by clouds')

Monday, September 25


"Why do I keep beating myself with a hammer?

To feel real?

Because it feels so good when I stop. "
(Grey's anatomy)


It doesn't.

That's when the soreness really kicks in.
The futility of it all?


So I just find another hammer.

For variety
For thrills
for chills.


Because I can.

And you can't.
And you shan't.


Is just another word
I haven't heard.


Is a non option
Rivers run dry.


Perhaps one day
When I can truly say

I broke the hammer
Just to stay alive.

Thursday, September 21

Squeal if you care, keel if you dare

It's rainin men

they paved paradise
to put up a parking lot

Cos I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other one's givin a high five

(Ginger, Joni, Alannis)

sweet child o mine
did you know
that the only bliss
I ever foresaw
was that one nanocigarette
sitting liberated
on the sidewalk
by the grocer's den
as a million passers by
drift by in sheer disdain
or predictable indifference

and you know
more than ever before
that the sky is yours
for the taking

and all those cars
you were afraid to drive
and every cockroach
that got in the way
were merely passers by
filtered by a haze of smoke
all yours
only yours
forever and ever

crack open the secret chest
of hidden treasure
and find
of chinese wine
on aeons of esoteria
I've lost the key to

one a penny
two a penny
hot cross buns
have you seen the elephant

'course you have
and you thought
it was a vascillating volvo
veering veritably
via vicious venn diagrams
vending viagra
the vivisection

of yet another

of the veracious vamp

vowing vengeance

where werewolves wished
they withered
with the wind

wings of the dove
puissilant paraphernalia

spelling errors
are here to be

let's play tag
and if you can get me

all said and done
I'll shoot you down
in my pink sequinned gown
with my very own
kitsch upholstered gun,


scared yet?





Moses was a dude
with a fancy hood

Give me glucose
'stead o' manna
give me rainforest
in place of savannah

and I swear
to every fake God
that ever lived
this world
will go under
right down under
no matter what
no matter who

with or without you

I can't live

with or without you

Goddamned Oscillating Dog
greying gills
gushing Givenchy
go get gummy bears
It's all your good for

As you wait warily
for them to write you off
like they did Pluto.

Who the fuck is Alice??