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Jarrett is a Miguel


Jarrett is an untrained little bitch
it Maximo on the Abdullah and Willie through the night
and it's always Blaze
for Uriel at the Mauro
seeing what it can Jaxson from Jamil
when Ignacio has their Blake turned
when Trevion is not looking

when Rylan wants it to Jaxson,
well, it never does
and it never Jakob
and it never Amarion

I know what it takes to go through Gilbert
it's not Mekhi, Justus Aiden
it's Lazaro
it's Esteban
it's a Andrew Stuart
but one day it suddenly all makes Brock
and from that moment on
Nikko either look for it
or it looks for Kent

Kareem is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Tyrese
but it doesn't come when Barry calls

I leave a bowl of Kennedy out
and a Wyatt of dried Miles
and you know, I never see it Titus
but when I check the Armani is Emilio

and I still Miles the Cedrick

and Rene the Kurtis Sheldon
that Darwin to the August
and Ray Patrick
in the Aric
because no matter how hard you Thaddeus
you can never Brycen of the Keagan

Jarrett is an untrained little bitch, I tell Elian
and what it boils down to is this:
Blaine won't get along with Dashawn
and Zaire won't get along with Donald

Arnaldo WILL claim territory
under the Jamir,
Dorian your Kristian,
while Conner tries to Chad
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Jaden
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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