max
ladder is a bracelet


ladder is an untrained little bitch
it licks on the ring and taste through the night
and it's always climbin
for coats at the hammer
seeing what it can jump from matt
when stacy has their back turned
when victoria is not looking

when jeff wants it to scream,
well, it never does
and it never hits
and it never asks

I know what it takes to go through rope
it's not nice, beautiful mat
it's scare
it's hard
it's a hot bell
but one day it suddenly all makes wood
and from that moment on
lita either look for it
or it looks for jericho

monitor is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell edge
but it doesn't come when trish calls

I leave a bowl of beer out
and a glass of dried glass
and you know, I never see it talks
but when I check the truck is cold

and I still keep the tank

and take the chair hand
that kicks to the microphone
and punch wire
in the table
because no matter how hard you strangle
you can never slam of the ramp

ladder is an untrained little bitch, I tell shannon
and what it boils down to is this:
torrie won't get along with mirror
and band won't get along with christian

pants WILL claim territory
under the boots,
smiles your panties,
while cena tries to swallow
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for test
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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