DC's 75th Anniversary, Exhibition at Palais De Tokyo Paris, October 2010

....

oh to be kissed

fast food

I'm tired of two-dimensional characters,

cardboard stands, and speech balloons.

With practiced emotions and plastic hearts

they parade their ever-changing skin under 

furling banners of pride drinking in the

stinking glue they use for blood. Bleeding

souls with the transparent selfless

flesh they feed upon. My own stop-sign

singed from burning, licking lips.

Reaching inside moldy lunch boxes their

hands sparkle under freshly donned rainbow

sprinkles slicing into my real flesh with their

tried and true twinkie defense.

blood

Blood has so much significance in my life. I'm inspired by it, frightened by it, repulsed, enamored, mesmerized.

Rick Deckard; Bladerunner. *swoon*

a day in the life

so the other day, I was tying these Birkenstocks to the back of my rainbow van, when this silly dyke starts screaming about how I need to let her go. Big baby kept saying something about how much her feet hurt. They were HER Birkenstocks! It's not my fault they didn't feel quite right.

I'm a Cyborg But That's Okay.

crushing

I have a crush. shit. I mean, Yay.

My favorite paper doll.

kisssss

my goodness he's a beautiful god

Civil War

I lost my heart in

that bloody war. The one

I didn't see coming.

The one you started with

a traitor's kiss. The one

you said wasn't possible.

I hung from that tree-

limb in disbelief as

you watched with your

picnic basket and new love.

I closed my eyes, anxiously

awaiting my release from

this dirty, rotten

blasphemous world.

Do not hold strong opinions about things you don't understand.

Snake Oil

If I were to roll over and hold you

I'd recognize the bite. It brings me

back to the wolf at my door, the one

whining and gnashing its teeth in a

constant moan. Like wind at my

door, it rattles the rafters and

tempers the glass I refill each day

with animosity and regret. You mess

with my head as I stumble against

the sun in my face, startling me into

believing there is a tomorrow. You

smile your wicked, crooked smile knowing

tomorrow is the same as today as yesterday.

Black, oily liquid snakes down my throat 

one more time as I snuggle with my

comforter. My only comfort. My friend

my enemy, my demise. I roll over

and hold you as you snap my neck

in your jaws.

So, I see the same shit every day.....everything is so perfunctory. I hate the lack of honesty and integrity. What shall we do?