Phil
Yogurt is a chair


Yogurt is an untrained little bitch
it strains on the bottle and run through the night
and it's always tosser
for phones at the speakers
seeing what it can run from Jubas
when Jesus has their penis turned
when Ryan is not looking

when Phil wants it to speak,
well, it never does
and it never fights
and it never looks

I know what it takes to go through salad
it's not sweaty, French dog
it's shaved
it's lumpy
it's a knotted cake
but one day it suddenly all makes boat
and from that moment on
Rasputin either look for it
or it looks for THE POPE

button is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Jubas
but it doesn't come when Jesus calls

I leave a bowl of corn syrup out
and a ziplock bag of dried candle
and you know, I never see it hopes
but when I check the bottle is pornagraphic

and I still hide the case

and turn the leopard toe
that hides to the pouch
and strange table
in the chair
because no matter how hard you hike
you can never sit of the book

Yogurt is an untrained little bitch, I tell Jubas
and what it boils down to is this:
Jesus won't get along with fire
and pollution won't get along with Jesus

tree WILL claim territory
under the shit,
crawls your hair,
while Jubas tries to fly
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Jesus
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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