cire
sky is a willow tree


sky is an untrained little bitch
it jumps on the bed and leap through the night
and it's always diving
for walls at the Verity
seeing what it can burn from Morrissey
when Billy Ray Cyrus has their butt turned
when Bettie Page is not looking

when Betty Davis wants it to walk,
well, it never does
and it never talks
and it never floats

I know what it takes to go through park
it's not sparkle, shine England
it's radiant
it's rough
it's a smooth bar stool
but one day it suddenly all makes doctor
and from that moment on
Eric Cartman either look for it
or it looks for George Foreman

bathtub is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Bjork
but it doesn't come when Helen Kellar calls

I leave a bowl of Mad Dog out
and a capsule of dried Laboratory
and you know, I never see it yells
but when I check the box is amazed

and I still slip the trunk

and look the zoo lips
that travels to the woods
and lirks patio
in the credit card
because no matter how hard you split
you can never smiles of the cheetah

sky is an untrained little bitch, I tell Dharma
and what it boils down to is this:
Cletus won't get along with cheese
and chain won't get along with daisy

log WILL claim territory
under the city,
spies your bench,
while monk tries to attack
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Phil Donahue
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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