DYRL?

Just make the contents grow.
Tonight I will sleep alone.

Turn the bottle away.
So the label won't say,
"John Walker will need
the same way John Cash grieves."
It's you before me.
Except when I receive.

What makes you push me away?
Keep asking why I stay.

Turn the bottle away.
So the label won't say,
"Will your meds kick in
when the dark begins?"
It's you before me.
How long must we believe?

I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"
I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"
I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"

Blindfold me in the dark.
To separate conscious parts.

Turn the bottle away.
So the label won't say,
"That the problem is me."
At least tonight I will sleep.
It's you before me.
Baby, desperation builds need.

And I remember need,
but I keep forgetting me.

Turn the bottle away.
So the label won't say
that, "I've made up my mind."
'Happens every time.
It's you before me.
Close your grip on my sleeves.

I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"
I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"
I ask myself,
"Do you remember love?"

I miss when you were brighter.
And I miss being nicer.
Sneaking your pills in need.
Some promise to elevate me.

I miss being brighter,
and I miss you being nicer.
And I keep thinking above,
"Do I deserve love?"

And I keep thinking above,
"Do I require love?"

And I keep thinking above,
"Can I endure love?"

Cloner Consumption **I can't talk fast enough version*.*

Evening out the paces between
each bite each big bite
from the leg of my leg
and the meat of my chicken breasts.

There's glass and confette under us
from the table and the party
that once surrounded us.
The glass is all safety from the
barrier around me and
the home of the clones
is the barrier I'm carrying
with me.

An extra body and
an extra set of clothes.
A cell phone to say
that nobody's home.
Marrow and meat
from a person that is me
and is not me.
We're friends and lovers and enemies.
We drink the same water
and piss on our feet when standing.
We're tired and moaning.
We're alone in the morning.
We're drunk on our feet.

Yeah yeah confetti
yeah yeah

Another dinner a clone and a meal from the meat of me.
The bones are warm and the blood's flowing finally.

Yeah yeah confetti
yeah yeah

Another plate glass shatter from the hour in delivery.
The bedspread's made another new 'nother new me.

Yeah yeah confetti
yeah yeah

The dinner bell swell bloodshot eyes and I'm hungry.
Late night masterpiece means, huh, eat me.

Cloner Consumption **I'm a Country-Blues Cheeseburger Edition**

Plastic fork.
I've been fucked with worse.
Plastic fork.
You won't make it hurt.
Nothing else is much worse.
Than a plate full of memories.
And we're all going to eat

from that buffet.

Plastic fork.
Knows more than plastic knife.
Plastic hour.
Us in the plastic firefight.
Nothing else is much worse.
When you're not beside me.
And we're all going to eat

from that buffet.

*steel guitar picking*

Plastic fork.
As disposable as our feelings.
Plastic life.
Won't you remember tonight?
Nothing else is much worse.
You're stuck up inside me.
And we're all gonna eat

from my buffet.

I told my daughter how to make money and she told me how to leave (leave me).

Hit me like you hit the stage.
Raise your hands up and
pull all the stunts from knees
to the studs in the floorboards.
I was all innocent.
Red innoncent.
Last of the blood stains
from the carpets from when
I was growing up.

Grandma was gin.
Raked hair.
Thin mask of mascara
and smelling of lilac
and juniper berries.

"I want you in me,"
said from the cemetary.
Man sans wife.
The love lacks the latter.

Cake of mascara and me
tied strings round our fingers
and I fingered the pages
of the hymnal.

We sang to the stage.
I cried and I prayed
that the man who
died
may have died
just for this
blood in me.
__________________________________

So what mom?
I slept may way from coast
to coast.
Who knows the names
of the men that
have loved me?
Call Adam by name
and bring bread
and babe to the
alter to bathe in the holy stream.

Please fix this.

Fix the water and
fix the name that I've became
from the naked stage.

Greased pole
wet gyrations momma.

Fifty dollars says I won't be clean.
Fifty dollars says
Adam and me will be working
some new, modern debt
for the rest of our lives.

Please take it from the liquid
in me.
Please take it from the stem
of the seed.

My daughter and me will be
picking our way to Alaska.
And he takes it.
And he wakes up
with cats 'cause I left.

This puss' may be a box
to a chef,
but the water is moving
and it will always
run inside of me.

Take it.
Take me,
and leave it inside me.

Bring me and raise it
then leave.

That's the sum of what I need.
Make sure the check is
addressed to me.
Properly.
And leave it if need be.

I'll be easy in the upstairs,
and if you need me
I'll be rolled up in the bedspread
at the foot of the footboards.

That's if you need --
that's if you want me.
If your name's Adam, and
if you're polite than I won't
care.

Just leave me with the
money and I won't care.

In me and
need me.
Saint Guinavere.
Painted above my bed.
__________________________
Placed in the crib
no less than three renditions.

My mouth may be stupid,
but at least I choke.
At times.
This envelope is mine,
and the money if fresh
in all our thoughts.

This money is the cost
of all youthful thoughts.

This money is the dream
of the lies that I've seen.
This money is the path
of the lost.

We can be nothing but cost.
IRS slave wage.
Morgage days.
Need me so that I may
need to be alive.

Child.

You and I are the rakes.

We take and we take.

We pass out for days.

This money makes us slaves
to the man who collects all
our costs and the loss
is me making minimum wage.
I've been saving for days, but
the misery's afoot.

Look what I've took for us to eat.
Babe 'best keep on your feet
round the sad greasy pole.

Just shake so that you may
get better than me.
'Cause you're prettier than me,
and you know what you need.
What you need is a man.
Dark hair and a tan.

Just don't take credit cards
unless he's hard
and he's hungry enough to leave.

If he's hungry then
he'll know when to leave.

___________________________
Trust me.

Some whore's breakfast 1990.
Tell me lies tell me lies tell me lies.
I know who died,
and you're kid's name's on
the napkin.

I know who died and I saw your
"something". The kid
might hear...

...your greased wet.
Your plague.

It took the firemen
to get your harness off the stage.

It took you wet
to make way for your name.

It took your daughter
to close out the day.

Jealous and in oak
casket it shows.
Jealous from the name
of your daughter
when he rose
gripping the edges of the stage.

Jealous from the obituary
where the headline is your name.

Trying is all art. Trying is all timing.

Tied up to the overpass.
Tied down to the grass under
my feet and spelling
"I love you"
with every ounce of me.

Drop me with my
doppleganders.
Let me wander
with leftovers
and eat when
I'm hungry not eat
not eat, not eat
when you're feeding me.

One day, you will find me
one day, perhaps beside
me I think, I drink
too much to compensate,
but I think,
you hope,
you differentiate that
you know
I know
we're all knowing this.
I plan, and I'm hoping this.

We kiss, and I'm missing this.

Oh, I'm hoping that
I'm doing this right thing
this time.
\\\\\\*kiss, kiss*
Plainly planning to suck
on this.
Dragging your soul up
on this.
Let me know when you're done
with this.
That's when I'll know to let go
of this.

I was bright me you buy me.
I was bright me you buy me.









Then you're blind again.

One red haired dancer early evening photograph 1935.

"We've got to keep you -
there is no equal,
no frequent feeling,
no waste of time
ever, lovely."


I was just born and stood
on the staircase
wearing the bracelet
of an roughneck's bride.
I was just born and wore
a cotton cape
stained with pumpkin
and strained carrots.
I was just born and stayed
quiet in case
the rifle wasn't
secured in the closet.
I was just born and laid
low to the floor
boards hungry knowing
I would die poor.

Now matter how
hard we tried.

And I may have.

My dad's got
handfuls of sage
wrapped in torn
pages from the
Sears catalog.

My mom's got
a pearl earring
and a scarf
pulled close to
her heart.

My man's got
a new hand
with bracelet
tugged tight
into his.


My nails got
wicked and thin.
My lips got
cracked and dry.
And I sighed.


And I sighed
when I heard
my sigh.

And I laughed
when I learned.

I laughed
when I learned
that this is
not my Earth
anymore.

For a time
I was born,
and I died poor.
Yeah, momma
I died poor.

[BMBFFletters]

*Fascinating.
*Just fascinating some stories and a head less sleep.
*Something deep inside me grabs down on all senses
*hands to my back and working through dry spots
*eyes on my lids and wondering where this is going.
*Let's follow along. I've saved the sale bills for another song.

The mail tells me that I'm still living.
Something tells me that I'm still moving.
Hunched back and roughed shoulder tension.
This body tells me, "Hold on kid."
"There's no place we were ever meant to be."
The mail tells me to watch the tv.
Something tells me that I've wasted enough time seeing.
Banking now on five hours sleep.
This body tells me, "We're in deep."
"There's no time we were ever meant to be."
The mail tells me to spend my money.
Something tells me that this is how every day will be.
All deposits will be paid in full.
This body tells me, "Promise this please."
"There no thing we were ever meant to be."
Letter I've got everything I need.
letter i'll be better in the morning

letter if you leave me
than i won't know
that i'm still living
alone

Er,
letter i'd leave you alone
if you leave me than
it'll be easy to move
on alone

Business Casual Protest-A-Gogo

1000 faces talking.
The fight's true,
but the mouths are naive.
B says this fight costs money.
Buy up a couple bureaucrats
with whiskey and gunpowder
stains on their husky suit sleeves.
This fight for homo rights
is nothing but a plague of lisps:
effeminate tendrils and hands that
won't change anything
until they change their clothes
and sell off their souls --
park their volvo's and swap
zip-codes with the rest
of the screaming abortionists.
BAN GAY in big letters with
the RED-R hanging off to the side.
Did this new hate make
scripture suddenly en vogue,
or is this lack of fight
due to civility and education?
1000 faces talking, talking, talking
and they're all empty mouths.

Fuck it, I'm into heartwarming

Oh, I'm always so cold even when I don't mean to be.
Selling off my bones, my bones, my bones.
Don't need many of them anymore, but we've grown attached.
Not the marrow but the meat. The meat and the money.
The force that's fucking up my back and taking my name.
All five syllables --
I swear.
It happens every day that I wake up sick.
All the days that I wake up tired.
Every discussion held that is used to convince me that
as long as I'm moving at all the movement will be forward.
Never stagnant.
Which is my favorite pattern and it's making you tired.
And worried.
Which makes me worried.

Fuck it, I'm into heartwarming motherfucker.
I'm into calling and cuddling.
I'm into lawnchairs and shaving.
I'm into the A-BOMB.
I'm into the XXX-BOMB.
We may not hold hands often,
but we make up for it at the stop lights.
Just remember that.
Just keep the dance steps in time.

HOT HEAT BOOM!

I tell you what.
YOU TELL ME NOW.
I'm on and off
just like the lies
I tell myself
about conversations with
family.

Nah, I'm just off
sometime so close
to shutdown for good.
There's truth,
then there's what needs
to be told.

There's heat when I speak.
Sometimes enough
that I set myself on fire.
And that wind will pick up
throughout my lifetime.
And that wind will
signal the end to all
loose ends.

Friends, sluts,
knives and spies.
Let's keep this fluent,
it never hurts to.
Right?
It never hurts until
you do.
Right?