rose
knife is a ring


knife is an untrained little bitch
it cries on the comet and jump through the night
and it's always jumping
for balls at the hairbrush
seeing what it can lick from marilyn
when harris has their forearm turned
when matilda is not looking

when billie wants it to scream,
well, it never does
and it never kicks
and it never kisses

I know what it takes to go through spoon
it's not hot, glittery carpet
it's burning
it's smooth
it's a rotten porcelain collection
but one day it suddenly all makes appetite
and from that moment on
mother either look for it
or it looks for deloris

blanket is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell mum
but it doesn't come when father calls

I leave a bowl of water out
and a jewelry box of dried paper
and you know, I never see it squats
but when I check the trashcan is blue

and I still sleep the snort box

and laugh the buffalo eyelash
that kicks to the cigarette
and breathe family
in the perfume
because no matter how hard you strip
you can never die of the street

knife is an untrained little bitch, I tell sven
and what it boils down to is this:
jesus won't get along with window
and dog won't get along with mary

bible WILL claim territory
under the blow,
sucks your wallet,
while anais tries to kick
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for betty
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

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...