Friday, November 26, 2010

stupid stupid stupid

tick tick nervous tick
'I was nervous once'
my cousins probably think
I say shake shake shoulder shake
no I will not come be next to you people
I love you, you're my family
tactile anxiety
is a form of defense you see
defensiveness from
this weird desert air
as we speak I'm some weird
pretzeled up mess
on carpet
on wood
suffocate me, Internet
there's never enough room
to feel truly helpless
Plan A is to fuck you
Plan B, for me, is to fuck
you and then to
invent a time machine
and go back in time
and stop myself from
fucking you

Morlocks tell me
that I will sleep
and the cold bitterness
of my soul will go out
and if I didn't fuck you
then I would never have
invented the time machine
in the first place

great expectations

all november I guessed
at what I might write
on thanksgiving day
I got too drunk to write a
poem
should have guessed

An Haiku 2

halfway home, a field --
November wind bends dry grass
it begins to rain
let them eat flat bread
sounds so much less interesting
than let them eat cake
no caffeine
no spicy foods
no fried foods
i see no reason to
carry on being queen

okay, Robespierre
take me away
I'm useless without
my morning coffee anyway