Polly was a weirdo, she liked to watch me sleep
She lived in a suitcase on the corner of my street
Polly was a danger, dangerous to herself
She had printed copies of the directions to hell
Polly wore her hair in ratty tatty buns
She poked herself with needles, her only way to run
Polly was a dreamer, she dreamed dreadful dreams
She never liked to talk about those awful things
Polly wrapped her lipstick in dollar store rubber bands
She counted Tuesday backwards on the palm of her left hand
Polly hated crackers, she never really ate
She dined on cotton swabs and self taught hate
Polly went to heaven at the age of thirty nine
She was a really good friend of mine
I am dirty a sexy piece of filth I hate those stories about how people bitch about where they came from. It’s over it’s gone get the fuck over it. Who gives a fuck if you grew up in a hovel made of daddy’s condoms mommy’s rotten breast milk and the bones of your grandmother crunching underneath chairs? Yes you may be choking on a thick dick wishing it was a Carmel Lilly pop. Has he even told his wife? Oh wait, he can’t you killed her two weeks ago. Remember? You became her friend via social network and invited her out for drinks and made out with her in the bathroom. Just as she was about to come you slit her pretty little throat. You wore those gloves those pretty fox fur. Expensive like walnut flour. I love to kill people they die because I have the power to make them dead. It’s all bittersweet how I like my nights my chocolate my murders. I hate myself but I’m beautiful I am I have been told by many I have a pretty face the skeleton of an angel. I like to burn them stab them watch finger tips glow to hear them scream it’s my lullaby I can’t help it it’s my destiny my dust. My boyfriend has no idea I am in love with my boyfriend he is the police chief his name is Jasper Crow he loves me he said so.
It was Saturday night I had just sold a painting I wanted to celebrate someone needed to die so I went out in my half price Stella I never kill in Prada I can’t afford it. I ordered a double gin and tonic flirted with drunk eyes loose lips sweaty thighs hard dick black tongue and Mac and Jacks. Then I found him my victim a 65 year old fisherman named Dale who was depressed over losing his girlfriend in 1978. She drowned in a river I gave him a shoulder a stranger bone to cry on. He really needed to die Dale. It was the least I could do.
It had been a long day trying to make enough money to get the fuck out of that hell of a town. Beer is cheap down in California, two bucks for three tall boys. A good deal if you think about it. I was dirty I hadn’t bathed in four days. I was still traumatized after finding that box of dead kittens in the parking lot at Denny’s. I needed the sweet harshness of alcohol to wash down the memory of those cold defenseless corpses. I never knew dead kittens had such cute ears. We sat on the curb waiting we waited it was hot I was hungry I thought we were going to die in that town full of Swedish Mennonites. I had just finished my last beer when a bright purple Bentley pulled up to the gas station. The driver’s door opened and out waltzed the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. He was strutting with all those chains and had a pimping suit on, I wondered what he did for a living. I watched him walk inside and I told my boyfriend I’d be right back. I walked in and stood behind the successful business man as he bought a pack of Marlboro Menthol’s and complimented him on his orange shoes. He turned around smiled and I asked him for money. He threw his head back and laughed. He then pulled out his wallet and pulled out three hundred dollars. He told me to keep it real that he’s never had someone with the balls let alone a vagina ask him for money. He patted me on my almost dread locked hair and walked out still chuckling. I bought a pack of Lucky Strikes and another beer stuffed 285 bucks in my bra and walked outside.
You know how you forget certain things for a long time then all of a sudden the memory pops up in your head at the weirdest time?
Well one time I was in San Francisco with my boyfriend and we were looking for cocaine. Nothing spectacular or too expensive just a couple lines each. So yeah, yeah it was my birthday and I wanted to get fucked up. So we took a bus, I was wearing a fur jacket I had bought for thirty bucks at the Goodwill and a slinky number that suited the slut in me just fine. We first went to a gay bar where I gorged myself on rum and Kamel Reds and as I got drunker and drunker I wanted cocaine but didn’t know where to get some. We walked and walked I was screaming at bricks and flipping people off. When we came to a hole in the wall Mexican bar. I walked right in self assured and horribly self conscious. Got a seat at the bar and ordered the biggest margarita they had to offer. Looked around at all the people looking at me wondering what the fuck a little white piece of ass was doing there. Then it happened. A guy came up pony tail tear drop tattoo dark eyes and all. Looked at my boyfriend and said you looking for something? I said self assured that we was looking for coke the bartender nodded and the guy with the pony tail gave us speed. I’m not one for the high of methamphetamine but hell how many chances does one get to be in this that type of situation? I did a line or two for the experience and those couple lines nearly killed me. But that’s another story.
The walls were made completely out of Peacock feathers. Wonderland Asylum was indeed a fascinating place. It was somewhere I’d never want to go again but they had good cheese dip. My crime was loitering in front of the Queen’s haberdasher. I was just standing there in the standard way. Minding my own business carrying a gun a pry bar and a sledgehammer. For some reason, as soon as I told the clerk at the haberdashery to give me all the loot or I’d make her dead. There was suddenly much shouting and to do. The next thing I knew the Queen screamed ” Off to the Looney bin!”
The Guard ducks quacked among themselves as they threw me on the floor and gagged me with fresh kitten glitter. I was maced and tased.. They tossed me into a big white van that had a disco ball. The mean old platypus driving the van wasn’t so much driving per say but was pointing the vehicle in an unknown direction while crocheting a hookah cozy for the caterpillar.
The platypus started the engine with his teeth and drove for what seemed to be thirty three minutes. We stopped once to buy an apple from a little old lady on the road. The Salamander that bought the apple took a bite had a grand mal seizure and died frothing in the passenger seat. The platypus kicked his corpse out at the stop sign in front of the elementary school.
When we arrived at Wonderland, I was greeted by a sight far from what I had imagined. Instead of the Gothic gargoyle drenched chamber of horrors before me stood a building of iridescent absurdities.
I was a bit embarrassed to get out of the van since I was dressed in a wedding dress covered in some poor bastards blood. But as I was hog tied and gagged, I didn’t really have much of a choice. So when the platypus dragged me out of the van I flopped like fish to make my experience a bit more exciting. I flopped so hard that I bumped my head and woke up in the Tea Party Medical Ward.
I was woken up to be given my pills which looked suspiciously like a cherry gummi bear and an everlasting gobstopper by a six foot Teddy Bear in thigh high black stiletto boots.
The bear was a nurse. Frau Malice. She couldn’t speak but she sure knew how to talk shit in sign language. I could understand of course what she was saying with her fuzzy hands because of all those classes at the community college. The acid bender I went through sure helped me lose my virginity to Claudia but that’s a different story.
My first trip to the day room was also the first time I met Irwin. He was the first invisible person that I had ever seen. Irwin was wearing a paper bag smock that he decorated in red anarchist sharpie sayings such as, ” More Cheese Dip” or ” Free the Llamas”.
Irwin had committed a horrible crime of misjudgment. He had accidentally ran over a family of three blind mice crossing the road to buy a chicken.
Also in the day room was Rupert. Rupert thought that he was a llama but it was quite clear to everybody else that he was an alpaca.
Claud whose job was to perform a punching joodie show with his myriad of puppies. The puppies were war criminals hiding in the one place they knew they wouldn’t be found.
Boleyn used to be somebody. She swore up and down jumped all around and turned herself about. Her crime was not producing a male heir. She had this fixed idea that she used to be a Queen of some far off place. Irwin said that Boleyn was all in my head. That I was crazier than I had never actually thought. I had to agree with him after all he was invisible.
in the violent wild reality in which is my present. I find myself often crushed by invisible forces. The forest some call suburbia, the city, downtown, fifth avenue, the hood is a dangerous place to be human. We drink vodka on the city bus, we sell drugs to minors, we rape the watchful, we are betrayed, we are victims, we are a mess. How I long for the days when I was excited for the future. Now it’s wondering when the next shooting will take place. It’s sickening my reality. I doubt it will change soon, the best I can do is try and change myself. That’s all I can do.
Emily woke up hungover as fuck in the arms of some random asshole. She groaned laughed a little shook it all off as she slid under his track marked arms to get dressed. It had to be Saturday morning. It was snowing it looked like shit outside. She threw on her clothes rifled through his wallet saw his name was Derek took his cash which she estimated to be around 600 bucks in twenties. His apartment was a typical bachelor pad. It had a blue tint a decent view of the courthouse. Crappy art and a book about old movie stars Chinese takeout and an old brown chair covered in miscellaneous bullshit. She figured Derek was going to be out for a while, she barely remembered the night before. All she could remember was grinding on this chicks knee tossing back shots of double vanilla vodka coke.
She looked around checked a bunch of shit out. Opened the fridge nothing as she expected. Emily cursed herself silently, she lasted six weeks without a drink. She had been so good, it was hard after the baby died. Her baby Rainie died of SIDS barely three months ago. It was fucking terrible finding her in the crib. She blamed herself though it wasn’t her fault but she hated herself. She would never stop hating herself. After the funeral Emily went to the bar and drowned herself her pain in whatever she could afford. Nothing mattered anymore.
Emily bid Derek or whatever the fuck his name was farewell. She wrapped her vintage coat around her thin waist and walked out the door cash and all.
Jackylope and his sister Candylope were odd children indeed. They lived with their Aunt Martinez in a five story mansion on the hills overlooking the ocean. Jackylope was fluent in Argentinean and enjoyed canning exotic pickles. Candylope loved Busta Rhymes and dreamed of owning her very own record store. Their parents were in prison for grand theft auto. They had about thirteen years left of their sentence. Jackylope loved his parents, they were always good to him and his sister. Camping trips, fishing trips, mushroom trips. The stuff memories are made of, when mom and dad got popped, Jackylope and Candylope got sent to the mansion. They had to leave the oasis in the mountains in Paris. They weren’t really mountains, just a house made of twigs but it did it’s job. It kept em safe and since they were in the country illegally they were extradited back to the states.
At first the siblings resigned to their new life with Aunt Martinez, she had a collection of miniature bibles that she kept in a cookie jar. She had the biggest fattest cat named Billy Cooney whose favorite dish was fried pineapple. They did their chores and brushed their teeth. They prayed at night to whoever the hell was up there to bring their mommy and daddy back home soon. It wasn’t long before Jackylope had enough of Aunt Martinez, that bitch was crazy, stuffing her mouth full of bird feathers. Who does that? Either way he figured Candylope was bored as fuck too and probably wanted to leave as well. So they raided the medical cabinet in the bathroom and drugged Aunt Martinez, stole her stash of pearls a large wad of bills and committed the same crime that landed both of their parents in prison. Candylope drove of course, she learned how to drive from all them rap videos. They made it to a casino, bought a couple cheeseburgers from the garbage man and plotted their next move. Jackylope voted to sell the Buick for cash so they could buy a couple guns and break mommy and daddy out of prison. All Candylope had to do was act cute and it would probably work. So they sold the car to a drunk attorney and bought a couple tickets to Seattle. It was a long ways away from the mansion but they saw a bunch of cool shit, have you ever seen an elephant farm in the middle of nowhere? Then there was that hippie guy who was on the run from the man, he didn’t want to fight that war. The bus broke down in Fresno, they stayed on the bus and read each other’s fortunes. Judging by the amateur readings, Jackylope was destined to have seventeen children by twelve different women. His luck was lucky, always had been. Candylope was destined to become a fashion designer for celebrity dogs. Her death was timed at eighty six. When they finally made it to Seattle, they were unpleasantly surprised by the culture that perverted the state lines. An obese woman with a black eye asked for a cigarette, Candylope gave her a squished pall mall that the obese lady stuck behind her ear. It was raining, people driving drunk. Jackylope needed a gun, but first they needed ice cream. So they pooled their money together and came up with thirty six thousand four hundred and forty two dollars, a few quarters to call a cab which Jackylope called while Candylope flirted with idea of joining the circus. They took a cab to the fanciest hotel in town, the building was large, the windows stained glass. Jackylope tipped the cab driver fifteen bucks hauled their luggage through the spinning doors and found themselves in a very odd situation.
It was a biker convention. Supposedly a cop from Tacoma shot an unarmed drunk biker a couple years ago. The guy had just robbed a dollar store with a water gun that looked genuinely real. He escaped down the street on his motorized scooter, fleeing five miles fast. It had to have been beautiful, racing down the street pockets full of green onions and Bubba Yubba.
The cop that shot Earl Stringers said that Earl threw a sack of potatoes at his head. Missed him by that much, an inch or so but the cop frightened for his life reached for his pepper spray and accidentally grabbed his gun. He pointed and shot Earl Stringers dead.
Earl Stringers might have been a violent drunk who happened to do crazy things like robbing dollar stores but he was a good friend. Though in the end, a trait like that couldn’t save him from death.
Candylope twirled her hair as she endlessly eyed a young chap dressed to the nines in soft leather. He was fine as fuck in all that soft leather. He had to have an exotic name like Zeke or Jerome. She sauntered over to him, twirling her hair around her finger. He was even sexier up close, he had a tattoo of the grim reaper on his neck. His hair blond streaked with what looked like silver in the sun. His nose pierced with a simple stud, his face gaunt like he wished he was somewhere else. It was kinda romantic in front of the fireplace, pillars of plastic salt, swinging wicker baskets full of plastic flowers. Him somewhere else, Her possessed by the power a beautiful stranger possesses.
Meanwhile, Jackylope was upstairs in their 275.00 a night fancy dancy room that came with a rubber chicken, unpacking their few belongings. He desperately needed a gun, You just can’t break into a prison without one. He took a shower, shaved his head, threw on his dirty clothes and went to find Candylope who had a knack for trouble with men. He got downstairs and couldn’t find her, she wasn’t in the bathroom busting out rhymes, she wasn’t in the kitchen blowing the cook. There could only be one other place. So he walked up to the receptionist who was doing lines on the keyboard and asked, “Excuse me miss but I was wondering if I could possibly interrupt your binge to ask a question.”
The receptionist looked annoyed as she looked up at Jackylope.
It started as once upon a time, it ended in an enchanted forest. In the beginning there was a princess a magical night that ended when the clock struck twelve. In the city amidst fog trash and beggars lived an orphan girl who had no name, no need for one, nobody in particular she loved. Her castle an abandoned house near the docks. She was young, blond hair rosy cheeks lithe and lovely. Adopted daughter of a prostitute, her father unknown. Her mommy the only one she ever knew said she came from strange places. Who needs a name when one comes from strange places. A name for everyday, every moment, whenever she wanted to trade in a name for a new name, discarded like paper. So many names, when the time came her mother said, she would find a name to stick with, a name that suited her like moss to a rock. Until then have fun, go on now.
She watched her mother die from a terrible illness, disease scraped the skin, shredded from her once beautiful body. When her mother died, there was no one to help dispose of the body. So she did it herself, it took her five hours to carefully pull her mother across the floor to the kitchen that had no roof to the front door that had no bell out to the shore where no one ever came and gently pushed her out into the deep dark muddy river where no one ever swam. The city lights across the way underneath the moon screamed with sparkles that rested themselves for a moment on her mother’s dress before she sank to where no one had ever been. Perhaps her mother could finally learn about the language of the diamond gill. Supposedly in the murky waters of the river lived a clan of beautiful creatures. Her mother swore up and down that when she was an undamaged girl, she saw one sunning it’s beautiful self on a large white rock behind a tugboat. It had milky skin tinted green, white chocolate mint, it could have been a boy it might have been a girl. Nonetheless the creature was spectacular. Sunning itself on the darkest part of the moonlight, a glorious crown on it’s head. Royalty, escaping just for a moment from the drudgery of the river. When it happened, as soon as a far off church bell rang at the stroke of midnight. A piece of sky fell and crushed the creature, splash splatter a gasp then bloody brilliant guts mixed with lemon white bone seeped into the wretched water. Always an adventurous girl, her mother as an unspoilt young lady walked up to the once glorious being and stared at the one eyeball still flickering. She got on a hands and knees to gaze closer morbid curiosity and noticed me still a baby on my birth mother’s breast. Amazingly enough, not crushed, milky white with a green tint. She picked me up, covered in rocks and tears. Carried me wrapping in her shawl to her boyfriend’s house a place she called the castle by the docks.
that’s what they call me at the bar, that bar I went too when I was really drunk in a town I had never been to before. They asked me my name and I said, call me Story Brooke, I was just a figment of their fucked up imagination. One guy laughed next to me bought me a drink he thought I would like, gave me some pills, knocked me out so he could fuck me in the bathroom out of the pretense he was helping me out. Left alone, hey at least I still have my cigarettes, motherfuckers cost twelve a pack here in Japanese yogurt world, buy my ass get a dollar free land. I called my friend Liz who picked me up and ate me out. She had me for dinner because that bulimic bitch skips out on the morning meals. I suppose I tasted like orange chicken and regret. I bet I tasted better than that skinny drug dealing bitch Liz had a thing with last weekend, the only good thing that cunt has was a tight pussy. I have brains, I mean crazy brains but at least I have crazy good brains and a tight pussy. That skank was dumb as an J dollar bill. They make J dollar bills in the H ward, it was a fucked time for me. Questions I just can’t handle but other things I can, like cottage cheese and strawberries. Or pickles and Meryl Streep.
I live with this homeless guy in a fancy apartment owned by this gay guy with cancer. The gay guy loves Black Sabbath and wants to die to Crazy Train, he said it would make the most sense, the homeless guy sleep in the bathtub, he said it made the most sense.
the homeless guy took me to a house party where everybody dressed up like John Lennon dolls with macabre makeup, we danced to a terrible beats and I puked by this statue of a Tina Turner. I made out with this guy named Luke who had black hair, he was a meth dealer he had a cool van, he fucked me in the front seat with my face pressed up against the window. In the morning, Luke gave me sixteen bucks and this scarf his ex girlfriend made for him out of rainbow string before she got hit by a bus.I guess she was hot, she was really hot and marriage material with zero to none baggage. A catch he stated, turning his pipe to the heat of the lighter. I stared at moon through the window, I wanted him to love me like that even though we had just met. His black hair reminded me of dead crows and anything dead just got me hot. He pushed me out of his car onto the street in front of the police station. Drove off spun, spinning lucky bastard. I never had a fun ride, it was always depressing. Usually when I got high, I wanted to kill people or myself but I resorted to masturbating because I was anxious that I would never find happiness and all the glass slippers at Ross were sold out. so i went home knocked myself up with sea salt and fell asleep. I think you know, I think I dreamed of you but it was probably a lie. My dreams are jerks. My favorite dreams are black and white, barking dogs red kettles ballerinas pushing up daises with pubic bones. Woke up took a hit, spun, spinning, took a shower water in my eyes reaching for a towel ribs showing beautiful skinny lifeless hungry bereft. I took an eight hour nap, wrapped up in an Indian blanket I had found in the trash by Taco Bell. I woke up to the news of nothing good, took a piss and stared at myself in the mirror for forty five minutes before I decided to get dressed. I looked like hell, beautiful and dirty. It was my fate to look that way, to be this way. I only owned two pairs of shoes, both I had purchased from the local meth dealer for three candy bars he would never eat. \I walked into the kitchen, the homeless guy was washing his hair in the sink, he wanted to go a strawberry blue, a color God told him was the new up and coming.
” i have been addicted to meth for six years before that it was heroin. The needle is my friend, don’t laugh, it’s true, before that it was gorging myself on cock and that didn’t work. I guess it’s my dad’s fault, he hurt me in so many ways. He killed himself before the cops came to the house, my mom threw me out. I cost her life, her true love. She blamed me. I have been out on the streets now, well actually I am not on the streets anymore, this guy Hector told me I could come live with him and this homeless guy who lives in the bathtub. I am not one to judge, I once jacked off a cop for a pack of cigarettes.”
“I talk to god, he lives in the sink with me, i once caught him peeking up my skirt. I wear skirts, I make them out of toilet paper. I look beautiful, do you have a cigarette?”
I went to the grocery store today to pick up baby food for the cat. As I handed the cashier the twenty she saw saw my thick long jagged scars on my left wrist. She shook her head she gave me my change. I grabbed the bag and took the beer from under my sweater I stole, popped it open and walked into the street. I wasn’t always like this, even before my dad killed himself, I had a semi normal childhood even with the incest. It didn’t start until I was eleven, before that everything was fine. My mom was an artist, my dad was a history teacher. He had all these maps from all over the world, depicting angels on globes fairies holding street signs, I used to love to steal them before bed and fall asleep with them under my pillow. The first night my dad came in, I clutched the World Tree Map in my hand on my belly, in the morning I burned it in the bath tub before school. My mom loved to paint horses, I used dream of owning my own horse my own farm out in the middle of the desert. I never got to ride one, the closest I ever got to riding a horse was the second time I smoked meth. There was a little pony, a child’s toy one of those rocking horses in this chicks living room. I was so high, so fucked up, when everyone went out to go peer out the window. I just sat on that horse and rode it until the sun came up.
“I made a skirt today out of twigs and lint. I glued the lint to the string and threaded some beads I found on the ground. It looks I mean it looks great, I love this thing, I do. It is so pretty like fuck I really need a cigarette.”
“I am going to leave this place, I need to get away from Hector and his crazy cop friend, the homeless guy is pretty cool, I think I might take him with me. He is harmless, we have cash. I am not worried about that, I am just you know I really don’t know where to go. Everywhere is fucked up, this whole world is one giant toilet. I mean it’s pretty and all in some parts but most of it fucking sucks. I want to go to a city, a huge place where nobody knows anybody. They all fuck each other of course but nobody really knows anybody. I want to get a place by the subway or the train, where my windows shake, the floor moves, the lights sway. I don’t want to be alone in my head anymore. The homeless guy can live in the bath tub, I prefer long storms to wash, my hair soaked to my face, no underwear, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t trust water out of a faucet to make me clean, I rarely ever consider it.
I bought two plane tickets to Los Angeles. One for the homeless guy the other for me. We left without telling Hector we loved the guy but the cancer was hard enough with all that goodbye bullshit. I packed my bags, smoked the rest of my crystal, popped the oxy’s, I puked, nerves dope sick. I didn’t have much, i wanted to take the cat. That cat was the best bitch. She was my bitch. We took the bus to the airport since the homeless guy accidentally set my jeep on fire two days ago. We must have looked like freaks, because we were. The homeless guy in his spandex and toilet paper skirt and me in my usual black. I keep my hair black since it reflects the trauma of my heart. The jagged scars on my wrists, the piercings on my face. The tattoos on my neck, I just want to get high. That morning on our way to the airport, we passed a car accident. Some guy impaled on a spear. Poor bastard
we got to the airport found some dead chick in the parking lot, she was blue, she was pretty she was pretty dead. The homeless guy stopped and stared at her, grabbed his face and sneezed.
my real father was a bad egg, he was a drug dealing child raping bastard who killed my mother, I heard him shouting at her, her crying, the covers over my head. I heard her call my name, I was too afraid, I heard him drag her by her hair and throw her out the window to her death. She broke her neck in the garden she loved so much, the one we planted together last summer. He popped open a beer, I heard the couch creak, the tv turned on the sound of shoes kicked off into the corner, the rain dripped on my window, it was broken, I had broke it. I was upset, my father killed my only friend the night before he killed my mother, he killed my dog. He cracked her skull against the window, she died in my arms. My mother a ghost, how did she know. I knew, I knew my father. He was a monster.
I ran away, I took a lock of my mother’s hair, I wanted to carve her eye out, she had the bluest green glass eyes, but her face was caved in. My father had gone out and smashed it in. I turned her over to face the roses we had planted together and I left.
before i left, i murdered my father, i seduced him, i drank with him, i laughed with him, i spilt his head open with his ax. it was beautiful, the way he stared at me blood running down his face, his eyes glazed like honey on ham. i pushed him over with my finger, his penis out of his dark slacks, the ones he liked to wear while playing his music. he fell over, broke his guitar he swore up and down he got signed by jimi hendrix in the early 70’s. i flipped him off, stole his wallet, took the keyes and all the gold in the safety deposit box behind the naked picture of claire danes in the lower bathroom. I drove away, knowing nobody would care, the world was falling apart anyways. my mother had been my only solace in these woods, now everybody was dead. i had been my fathers lover for almost twelve years, sixteen now, a virgin never, free finally. I headed towards the city of the dead.
i got there, the ice cream store was on fire, rainbow sprinkles everywhere, in the gutter. the police staion was decorated from roof to concrete in corpses, heads hanging from branches.sirens on and off and on and off and back again, i liked the sound, people screaming, children crying. it was just another day in the world already dying. what had set them off, no one knew but one day people just went fucking crazy and started killing everybody and everything. my dad was a monster before that, he was evil before the world went nuts but when the world went nuts, i didn’t give a fuck anymore. I knew one day, i would kill him.
I was already in the city when people started to kill people around them. the first time was in the cafe, i had ordered two eggs over easy and had just sat down to drink my cup of coffee when a man walked in with a gun walked up to the barista who had the bright blue hair and shot her in the face, he laughed then he shot himself. I remember screaming, standng up but nobody came for hours. I couldn’t leave, outside was a beautiful day, Birds were singing, i had just ordered tickets to a rock concert I had been obsessed over for years. The band was speckled eggs, a favorite of mine. from Estonia. Their music helped me sleep. I had heard they had all died in a crash on their way to the city. I got a bottle of wine, drank myself to a terrible sleep in the city park. I coudn’t go home, somebody had blown my apartment building up
They call me pudding pie, they tell me i have sweet lips. I guess you could say I do, i have been on the streets in this fucking city for almost all my life. I was a whore’s son, i learned how to walk on glass, my toys were syringes with styrofoam for heads, my pets, my friends. I kissed girls, i kissed boys, i kissed husbands and made their wives cry. I look good in blue, kind of like a robin egg blue. Speckled blue some call it. I killed someone yesterday, they were hurting my friend, i bashed their head open with a piece of brick. over and over and over again and again until i was covered in their brains. my friend laughed, told me i looked good in guts.