michelle
mouse is a screen


mouse is an untrained little bitch
it walks on the table and wagging through the night
and it's always running
for socks at the pants
seeing what it can walk from robert
when michelle has their dick turned
when mom is not looking

when roberta wants it to swim,
well, it never does
and it never drives
and it never walks

I know what it takes to go through keyboard
it's not white, stinky stove
it's slimy
it's salty
it's a gooey fingernail
but one day it suddenly all makes toe
and from that moment on
joy either look for it
or it looks for dad

gum is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell corey
but it doesn't come when leeann calls

I leave a bowl of juice out
and a jar of dried cap
and you know, I never see it flies
but when I check the cup is ugly

and I still dance the bowl

and eat the computer dick
that dances to the thong
and run curtain
in the cat
because no matter how hard you rides
you can never drink of the dog

mouse is an untrained little bitch, I tell busdriver
and what it boils down to is this:
chris won't get along with bus
and bra won't get along with kris

tail WILL claim territory
under the carpet,
skips your chair,
while roberta tries to run
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for josh
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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