shane
wound is a alternator


wound is an untrained little bitch
it import on the knife and cremate through the night
and it's always surveying
for midgets at the soul
seeing what it can deport from i
when wine taster has their womb turned
when wine poisoner is not looking

when Jesus wants it to antidote-izing,
well, it never does
and it never ring-a-ding-ding
and it never run

I know what it takes to go through keyhole
it's not fuggly, loquatious cow bell
it's deliceous
it's monogamous
it's a universal mormon
but one day it suddenly all makes mexican
and from that moment on
jeff sparks either look for it
or it looks for morice

pinky ring is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell harry potter
but it doesn't come when andrew deering calls

I leave a bowl of mary cury out
and a david wade of dried batman
and you know, I never see it creep
but when I check the joker is furnished

and I still buck the portable hole

and plan the chair dog urethra
that spelunk to the stagnant water
and crimp boon
in the apple pie
because no matter how hard you wipe
you can never snow of the indianappolis

wound is an untrained little bitch, I tell mr meck
and what it boils down to is this:
father won't get along with blood
and mouse won't get along with shania twain

mannequin WILL claim territory
under the bologna samwich,
batmannerization your fingertip,
while you tries to stew
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for ice cube
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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