The Batman

Beauty

strange days....

!!!!!

                                                                      Word

road rage

So, I'm taking Jonnie (my daughter) to work. At an intersection I make a mistake. I inch into said intersection just as another bitch...er, chick is turning. I instantly throw up my hands in a gesture of good will and apology. She glares at me through the entire turn knowing, 1. this will erase the incident and, B. remind me what a douche bag I am.

Now, typically, I am a pretty laid back chick and laugh at this kind of ridiculous bullshit. I cannot let this go for the next 10 blocks to Jo's work. I invade her delicate, shell-like ears with profanity and the inherent evil of the human race. Poor Jo.

I need a hug.

online dating

I belong to one dating website. And by dating I mean, I have a profile and a sarcastic description about myself on it. It's been there for two years. I've probably chatted with 8.5 chicks in that time. Just recently I've talked to two women who actually have brains and a personality. Anywhore, I get a message from this woman yesterday. Besides the horrible grammar and run-on sentences it's the same shitty, boring thing most lesbians put on their profiles: "I love the outdoors, camping, the Green Movement, and my 23 dogs." At the end of her message she says, "ask me anything." Another common, run-o-the-mill description, comment, whatever. So, this is what I ask her:

Ok......How much does grain cost in the UK? Also, if I were traveling on a train at 60 miles an hour and eating a hot dog, how fast would I get sick?

It didn't work, she kept messaging me back AND referring to herself and her husband/boyfriend in the first person. Um,....what now?

scars

not mine. unsure whose. but. Me to a tee.

Batman

In two days, my life will be complete.

Oh Loneliness why must you be such a dirty whore?

cyborg

oil for blood

stainless steel heart

dripping flesh in Ziplocs

stored in ice.

a real girl once

Gepetto's pride, now

a nightmare’s wet dream

R.E.M.

In my dream my arm wraps

around her smoky waist. I know

she isn't there even as my eyes

twitch beneath their veil and her

dark tendrils hide her brow.

I don't want to look yet my dream

skull creaks under the pressure to see,

like a door in a haunted house. I already

feel my empty sockets and broken rib cage

leaking onto the floor. My agonized

scream yearns to leave its gray

matter and break my silence. My arm

tightens around her waist as the clock

chimes one. More. Time. I look

into my own eye as her face melts

onto mine and I finally wake

beside her rotting corpse. one

more time.

please message me

Gosh I love it when people assume shit about you. Especially in a non-emotive form such as a text. Oh, you knew I was mad/sad/disappointed/rolling/turned-on, scornful, sad by the font I used??? Brilliant.

Bang

Falling in Reverse

Oh how I love these guys. This song in particular.

Drive-Under Your Spell

One day. Heaven. Sans the brutal killing at the end.

Siren

From the pit of despair

my siren calls;

she's a demon in a red dress.

Batting her seductive eyes

about my head and shoulders.

Still I come

tempted by her broken

curves, her open wound.

Red lips whisper pulling

me into her oily veil.

None of this I see as

I enter her willingly

squealing and offering my

flesh at her feet;

smiling as she renders my teeth.

Monster

When I killed the clown and you praised me;

a suspicious shiver tickled my spine. I see the 

mob and their pitchforks jutting against this 

bruised sky, jeering crazily. 

If my heart still remained, tears

would clean my dirty face.

No regrets hide inside my breast; her

candy-coated Big-Top couldn't hide her true

self. Her blood-stained cheek always turned

away from the sun, hiding her evil like a

vampire. In her eyes, glory was death.

Death is what you seek; your stench familiar

to a vampire killer like me.

Perfidy

I remember, I told you I love you. I sent that

letter on your birthday, you said I love you too

and will never walk away.

We played house and you made me smile; made

me forget, dabbing at my wound. I remember

it healed in the shape of a star.

The first time you left I cried

I cried until my eyes were shaped and

cut like a gutted tomato.

You called and said you couldn't help

cut the cake on my birthday. Remember?

You said you were sorry again

your words, like black glittering stones,

gathered at my feet leaving paper-cut

wounds all the way down.

I said goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

You lied, remember,

you lied with a wink and a smile.

Still I cried until the tears dried up and blew away,

until my shrunken cheeks felt the sun,

until my heart, like a black glittering stone,

sealed up, was shut up.

And here you are on my sun porch

soaking up my face with your eyes.

A perfectly shaped tear lingers artfully,

like a rescued heroine from Steel's pen, against

your cheek waiting for my reply.

I look through you and see the picket fence behind.

Behind you is the life I have the life I dug out

of that big, greasy trash bin; remember the one

where you idly tossed my love, my trust, my mind.

I turn my back on you and your watery friends.

I saw my reflection in that one dewy drop

upside down, looking like a shiny warble.

What I see is what I'd become in the house we called our home.

I was the maggot swollen under your skin,

the oozing pus from under your seat, scraped

from your boot of inconvenience.

Your tears are icicles to me. I close my eyes,

shatter them under my heel,

and slowly painfully close the back door.

Rite

The religious menace sells white-out

by the gallon to the sinner;

the saints rolls it on with a flourish

and a traitor's kiss.

Dingy collars sparkle in the florescence

of their blessings as they stand in front of the Son

covered in the rot and green of greed.

For they are not ashamed of

their blind adoration of the pulpit;

of the bloody, blind sheep they prod

and skin each week.

The Great White State cries, "god".  While

the forgotten masses cry, "God".

He will be found in the turbaned heart,

the battered wife, the dripping

fetus, on death row and the lonely quiet soul

void of satellites and Maybelline.

Death Note

If I can't find a good woman, give me Anime.

Crash Dummy

I am Norm each day I show my face. Arthur

on a good day, Mommie Dearest on the black.

They ask and ask, doctors and psychiatrists,

I nod and play along, tears in my eyes and placating

hands, promises of meetings and serenity.

Home alone, the dread I fear sits across

from me, gnawing on a rotten chicken bone

grinning its grisly grin;  an evil bunny in sheep's

clothing. Making revulsion seem a virtue,

malice a deep kiss. Each tear dipped in

poison beads across my lip.

I smile my broken smile continuing to place

my heart on the chopping block till nothing's left.

This finally stills me, no more bleating, beatings,

or regret. It's easy to forget when nothing's left-

easy to drink each loss and poison arrow

with a hole in your chest.

*swoon*

holes in my Levis

!

Have I told you today I love you?

I'm merely suggesting...

yay, gossip.

Whore

Let me show you my scars. You look away but

talk behind my back, here, see now....

Your bravado is a sheen, a mask of your

cowardice. Look and see. Do you see the

blood as it trickles down my cheek see

the gore as I lick it off my lip? Don't you

like the truth or is the lie you spread much

more couth? Look now, look and see

sorry pilgrim of myth. Were you fooled by

my ocean eyes, my ruby lips? Tis a shame

as I smote her love with my sinful hips. I smile

with her flesh dripping from my crooked teeth

and I see you flinch and wave the cross by

your flagging, sweaty breast. Your hopeful

woeful sigh for my death will not come as

we pass each other as I quest for truth and

you for death. What a suprise for you as your

golden crown will break spraying your lily

gown with your history of mire, blood, and sweat.

Automatons and Flesh Dominoes

Beauty wealth and brains so much

fodder for the Oprah set, the plugged

in preyed on followers stickerd with

For Sale signs and rent-free garbage

bags. We the Annie cattle on our

way to suburban slaughterhouses.

Here our sightless toneless braying moored

to the tag-lines of perfunctory gags of

the new religion on CNN or the new prophet

smoking undiscovered hash wrapped in

rotten corpse flesh disguised as flowers

from paradise. Love not a heart or emotion

but an impulse from slimy earbuds

connected to death, the neutral spark

meant to keep our lolling eyes from

seeing the shiny blade before it falls.