Lindsay
loser is a lasagna


loser is an untrained little bitch
it limps on the lymph node and laugh through the night
and it's always licking
for lice at the lamp
seeing what it can like from lisa landgraf
when lauren landgraf has their leg turned
when lizzie mcguire is not looking

when lindsay lohan wants it to look,
well, it never does
and it never lurks
and it never loops

I know what it takes to go through lettuce
it's not lovely, lippy lemon
it's lanky
it's loose
it's a leaky lipstick
but one day it suddenly all makes lump
and from that moment on
laura foley either look for it
or it looks for lionel trepanier

limo is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell lindsey landgraf
but it doesn't come when lindsey lipp calls

I leave a bowl of lemonade out
and a luggage of dried liver
and you know, I never see it lives
but when I check the large box is low

and I still loathe the little box

and love the lightbulb lobe
that lashes to the lighthouse
and light light
in the lighter
because no matter how hard you lubricate
you can never lose of the llama

loser is an untrained little bitch, I tell Lucile
and what it boils down to is this:
Lacy Little won't get along with lip ring
and luck won't get along with Lois Lane

legislation WILL claim territory
under the ledge,
liberates your lard,
while the Lorax tries to land
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Lily of the Valley%2C Gen%27s cat
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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