katie
horse is a tv


horse is an untrained little bitch
it flips on the stable and sprint through the night
and it's always screwing
for nuns at the computer
seeing what it can squat from katie
when jacob morlan has their leg turned
when Beth is not looking

when billy wants it to cut,
well, it never does
and it never runs
and it never splits

I know what it takes to go through car
it's not hairy, scary space shuttle
it's big
it's suductivly
it's a pretty ear ring
but one day it suddenly all makes hotel
and from that moment on
john paul either look for it
or it looks for kelli

keyboard is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell katie
but it doesn't come when brian calls

I leave a bowl of water out
and a beer of dried yes
and you know, I never see it pushes
but when I check the trunk is shaved

and I still pump the box

and do the cord heart
that pops to the bra
and top panties
in the ball
because no matter how hard you take
you can never squeeze of the paper

horse is an untrained little bitch, I tell charles
and what it boils down to is this:
Mrs. Norton won't get along with lock
and floor won't get along with katie

speed WILL claim territory
under the weed,
pleases your horse,
while katie tries to please
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for kaite
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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