Shelter Song #1

 i did not say that miss i did not threaten her miss i swear to god on my SOUL miss i did not say that

revisionist for you.

i scrub my surface for you. i roll in astringent so your face can touch my face and we can stay unblemished. i burn dermis epidermis for you. i layer i layer the smells that let you think i am so fresh.

and so clean i get clean for you.

[Complete version here]

Let People Poems.

Literary blog utopia for all.

I.

The young fail to recognize

For a while it seemed like there was a problem. Like there was a problem to be worked out or talked about. Stewed over. Picked apart. Laid bare. Someone stepped over a problem and the other one followed because the first someone held out her hand. It became THE PROBLEM. THE PROBLEM became the highest stone wall. THE PROBLEM became an untilled basement floor. THE PROBLEM became sour and loamy. THE PROBLEM became a sullen motherless virus and before you knew it,

HERE WE ARE WITH MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL CAN'T SAY HOW ROUGH IS TOO ROUGH WHEN YOUR HANDS ARE ON MY NECK HERE WE ARE WITH YOUR HANDS SPREADING ME APART WHILE YOU SLEEP AND I SLEEP HERE WE ARE IN FRONT OF THE THERAPIST AND SHE SAYS WELL DID YA THINK? DID YA THINK MAYBE IF YOU FUCKED HIM MORE THESE THINGS WOULDN'T HAPPEN SO HERE WE ARE ON MY BIRTHDAY ON THE WAY TO MACARONI FACTORY OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT PASTA PLACE IS CALLED AND I'M SAYING YOU BETTER FUCKING TELL THEM YOU BETTER TELL THEM THE WEDDING IS OFF HERE WE ARE ON THE BED AND YOU ARE SOBBING AND MY INSIDES WANT TO WRAP THEMSELVES AROUND YOU THEY WANT TO TELL YOU I AM HERE MY BABY MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE MAN I WOULD NEVER LET YOU FEEL THIS WAY THIS CLOSE TO ME BUT I CAN SEE YOU THROUGH LEAD AND I KNOW YOU'RE LIKE WHERE IS SHE AND WHAT HAVE WE DONE?

Teena and nobody.

 

[ras has a guest today]

Dear God,

Do not recoil when I say I think of you that way. My only frame of reference for anything  close is incest. I want to be in your lap. And I want to take all the blame. Please don't be quiet. Come to me loud and change my life. Shock my hair white and my eyes wild.

Touch me.

Love,

Girl

######

hey girl, 

i was thinking, how 'bout you and me hit up the spot for old time sake? i saw in the papers some big-city band's supposed to be playing. whattaya say? i got a couple of Tiff's slutty tops out of the hamper; we can give 'em the ol' one-two-peek-a-boo. fingers crossed, we'll be in the back of the van in no time. i know you haven't had much time on your hands since Franks' stroke, but bring him over here; Tiff or the dog will keep an eye on him. come one, it's been years now. when's the last time you got some dick? no, when's the last time you got some rocker dick?

xoxo,

Teena

Bibble pats himself on the back.

[ras has guest today] 

sent 24:02:20

Bibble: You always were a romantic despite a penchant for sentimental existentialism.  How did they put it?  Yes:  "Elegantly Juxtaposed." 

And believable.  Inspirational.  Magic.  That's what they said.  You hated it, didn't you?  But you were raised to love it, and either way youa knew it well.  It was a part of you.  And because of, or like them, I fell for the ol' wizard up the sleeve like an ace down a rabbit hole.  So to speak.

I wanted to know why your stark desolation was always so charmingly described.  Why Emptiness was so well-spoken.  Can you really blame me for responding this way upon discovering the answers?  At the beginning, you had called me braver than the rest.

All this reminiscing is not in my nature.  My concerns lie mostly in the present, and Santa brings them nightly down my chimney.  So to answer your original question:  Yes, every day is like Christmas.