frankenstein

 

there’s an air of quiet death about this house     there are ghosts in every corner     there are shadows      there are doubts      I’m being scrutinised by the inner eye     I’m naked and alone      with nowhere left to hide    I murdered you     to resurrect you once more    in the laboratory of my mind      you’re a stain that still needs scrubbing     in the life I left behind      I buried you deep     and hid the shovel     but you’re back again      and causing trouble       it’s a curse to have a conscience       I thought that we were quits     I don’t need to hear you crying     I counted every tear you shed    don’t make me relive this shit    just get the fuck away from here      get out of my fucking head

tribal

did you scan the broken icons?     the debris of heroic purpose?     the fetishes of pain?   here's another dismal harvest of broken bodies and perished dreams       security through violence      no world without us      we kill to live     and live to kill   I'm in awe of the awful symmetry in that design    I understand the tribal imprint      the allure of us and them      but I'm a little older now      and no longer play the game     that doesn't mean I'm safe      it simply means I'm sane

feline

 older now     but clearly no wiser     I showed a little interest     lapped it right up    the cat that stole the cream     but I won’t be neutered     by sympathetic vibrations      ‘no one fucks like that – unless they really mean it’    was that an accusation?      was it a compliment?      I showed a little interest      for a moment you were everything     but you murdered that moment       when you put it under the microscope       you murdered that moment      and I’m over it now…

entangled

it takes two to tangle     in the dog eat dog      but I’m resting my voice      before I take another pounding    my opening gambit       was all cotton candy      but my final word      meant nothing at all     I’ll ease on out      on my magic pillow     to take a repast    that’s at least free of sorrow     I might be back     I might not bother     but if I do change my mind     you’ll see me tomorrow

money

 money has power     if you choose to believe it     some people just don’t care about money       other’s care about nothing else    here I am sitting in my bed     reading my I.O.U’s   I don’t care much for anything    because beauty is a whore     and money is her pimp    I have no taste for poverty     nor for honest labour    that’s why I’m a thief   I will not serve a master     but I will not want for money    I’ll take what I’ve got coming     I’ll steal before I earn