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All I can think is blueThe umbilical chord your first,And most easily cut chain.Tumbled down the rabbit hole,my hands follow after,dropped,they shatter,clumsy.Can't pick them up,and stick them back together,no hands, no care,fumbled shattered thumbs,and feet that led me there,down rabbit holes,through the looking glass,where I never dared to look.It's a sad, quiet sort of place,And the Alice band around my head,Dirty and crooked,Slips down and around my neck,red dust clinging to my fingersCongeals and grows dark,The blue sky fading.All I can think is blue.
My favourite part's the endFeet up on the table, my pale uncared for body lain before me. Sad man. Chinks of light from the window trailing over my body. Pasty and hairy and unused.I watch the buzzing TV. The news is so fucking depressing. Every kind of person and none of them smiling. I should smile, just for a change of setting. And I'll be every kind of...thing on the news. Man, woman, fag, dog, addict, terrorist, rapist, murderer, banker, lawyer...and the rest. Smile smile New York, I'm everything. And soft news, the slice of hope at the end, after they tell you how many kids died today. I'm a cat that called 911 and saved my owner from a heart attack as she stuffed her face with Big Macs.Smile New York, I'm stunning.Smile San Francisco and Las Vegas and Texas and London and Moscow. Smile world. I'll be your stunning saviour, in my stunning apartment, in my stunning chair, with my sagging gut and oh-so-stunning mind.Thank god no one sees me in these moments. Ashtray balanced on my stomach, my
Smiley ManThere are those stories in the papers where a person has died and their pets have eaten their faces off, and everyone's always so disgusted by the dear trusted pet eating their owner, (how can you blame the animal? It's efficient.) Sometimes the owner isn't actually dead, they've just passed out, so they wake up and have no lips, and they look like they're grinning. Like a skull.My childhood Smiley Man was like that, but no eyelids either. He looked like a skull, in that way, except he had eyes and there was skin on his face, just not over his teeth. And all he ever did, really, was chase. So I'd run, and I'd think I'd have got away, but he had long fingernails, so he could just scratch me, rip my clothes. Seemed perfectly natural, then.I'd go to the closet to get my coat and stand on a box, because I wasn't tall enough, and I'd think I see him, but he was just something out of my dreams, my own, slightly sicker Bogey Man. The Smiley Man. Sounds like a clown. It's always the childish
On a shelf too highVeins filled with wax,Burning hot, until I die,Then solid, cold,Bright red,The syringe in my skin,Crooked little vein,In the crook of my elbow,Blue, blue, blue, wax.Tiny tiny baby child,Burnt, singed, black,Shiny,You're quite beautiful,In your way,And you're mine.Stolen away from me,Like things are,In the night, the only one crying,Because my baby's gone,Autopsy, to know,Vivisection, to learn,My baby's baby heart, still beating,Its baby soft bones, brittle and bruised,Pickled, they put him in a jar,And put him on my shelf,Too high for me to reach.So mindless, lobotomised,On my knees praying, gagging,Smells like sex,My baby smelt like caramel,On a shelf too high,Mindless, mindless,Lobotomised,Because thinking brings you down.
Be A Good Girl nowI played hide and seek with my mother,Hid beneath the floorboards,And watched her frantic feet,Listen to her voice, playful toScared,Then crawled out,Covered in dust,And laughed,Stole and hid my father's things,And watched him search,Just because,And mother had her hand,Father had his belt,They had their threats,How they hated,To carry through,I'd call their bluff, call their bluff,Force them,Because I knewThey so hated to,And they wouldn't dare.And I told mama,Your slaps are half-arsed,And she told me can you blame me?You are what you are,And I'm still your mother,And fathers reluctant belt, the same,Remember him speechless,When I said,So hit me, it's just a bruise, just a welt,Took his big hand in my small one,And grinned up, darling,And he left, speechless,Confused when I was not sweet.Vindictive child,Grandma Lyn said,You're sweet when you're sweet,But you're bad as mewhen you're bad,(how chic she was)and she smiled and kissed my cheek,and l
Left Glass HouseSex on a bed of nails,bad as skulls,all elbows and knees,sounds interesting, sounds exasperating,sounds vexing,we can handle it,take it all,but that doesn't mean we want to.I can feel my ribs,But that doesn't make me thin,Delicately stepping, I left Glass House,Where tensions run high,Teeth gritted, and where it all shows,on the shallow surface,touch your chest,Like water, sink my hand through.Left my eggshells on the doorstep,I broke out,But still sleep foetal, in nests,And long for cages,coffins and small spaces,bent and folded in boxes,to be held down.