bethanie
dog is a football
dog is an untrained little bitch
it runs on the lightbulb and leap through the night
and it's always playing
for watermelons at the fridge
seeing what it can punt from bethanie
when spenser has their leg turned
when zackary is not looking
when micah wants it to lick,
well, it never does
and it never hikes
and it never reaches
I know what it takes to go through tackle box
it's not runny, smelly puppy
it's rainy
it's yummy
it's a sour hair
but one day it suddenly all makes hat
and from that moment on
heather either look for it
or it looks for kaela
guitar is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell marsh
but it doesn't come when jake calls
I leave a bowl of pepsi out
and a mayonaisse jar of dried father
and you know, I never see it talks
but when I check the bottle is young
and I still heard the yogurt cup
and laughed the hippo ear
that yelps to the gaterade
and wait pot
in the tank
because no matter how hard you seperate
you can never hate of the head
dog is an untrained little bitch, I tell spenser
and what it boils down to is this:
zackary won't get along with wound
and arm won't get along with hughe
jug WILL claim territory
under the bicycle,
tells your tye,
while micah tries to hit
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for bethanie
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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