Red Lipstick

outside of the quaint café

we throw in-tact fox

skull's for our little

domesticated troop

while sipping on

sophisticated potations

spiked with evan's finest.

he applies his red lipstick

while she barks orders

at pup one and pup two.

i cover my ears in frustration

for that fox skull is

too pretty and broken

too perfectly at the jaw

to become a toy for

an inbred chihuahua.

(i feel that she is always taking control)

and the lipstick he puts on

makes his lips look

surprisingly thin which vexes

me further.

(those lips were so kissable once)

strange parisian man

comes and invites us to the gardens

and with a decision made

we are there arguing about

trips to france and the re entry into school.

trips to france will not do if one is

serious about school! trips to france

helping with lighting when one know's little

about lighting.

the dreams of an anxious young lady

demonstrate paranoid anger and loss

and usually leave a cold sweat on said lady's

pale smooth forehead. the lack of control

on anxiety stricken dreamy nights that one might feel

is completely part of the process of

figuring shit out

and must run it's vicious course on the

left and right side of the brain.

(mostly right, she can tell by her headaches)

Hannibal

Cannibalism, shnannibalism!

I'd rather eat some brownies

stuffed with weed,

or hey fuck it! Mushrooms!

Then I'll march down some hip trails

and look at the clouds turning

into paintings and out of reality I'll go!

Yes, and when the nausea kicks in

and I think of Hannibal the real Cannibal

I'll let out some ridiculous scream and laugh

and start down some crazy spiral of tears

swollen eyes and basic hysterics.

I'll stand in the middle of some parking lot

and watch a car wait for me to move,

and I'll feel really brave, like I'm stopping this car

from making any progress. Any progress at all! Yeah!

Until the person gets out of their car

and shouts at me to move! And I'll just run away

like some deer who only eats grass,

praying that no one will eat my brains!

18'' x 8'

doing breast examinations

listening to the talking heads

on a bus

with levon helm's crew.

slippery people in my ears.

the engine is making my spine vibrate.

drums

guitar

keys

electric synth

VOICE!

shake yo hips,

lady! go! go! go!

Praying Mantis

when i wake up

i see spider monkeys wrestling on my ceiling

with bunches of golden hay in their furry hands.

as they pull themselves together

and stop tearing apart at the yellow

curly dry grass

they begin to weave webs

and add old trojan wrappers

and movie ticket stubs

and leftover sushi

to their tangled mess.

as i look closer at these mad monkeys

i make out chunks of golden greek curls,

soft and lifeless.

and that becomes my only proof

that you were ever real,

that i had a good night,

that i had a delicious meal.