Vomit

Rapists choking on compassion
Gurgling on anything of significance
Spit it out and bury me
Let me become a nival being
With bony fingers scratching at permafrost
I cannibalized my sight for I have no use
To be ruled by a sense that knows more about me than I do
That lies to me more than I do
That needs me more than I do
I can't even see you.
But I can imagine you, what you look like
With the scourge leaking from your perfect smiles.

Here, boy!

So, now I have a dog with spasms. (of fear).
It all started when mother took dog on walk. Dog was chased by husky. Dog is only 12 pounds. Mother decides to remove big dog from little dog's presence. She knocks on door of its house. No answer. She turns the doorknob. Unlocked. Husky happily goes into house. On way out, mother notes dog house with chain in yard. Chain is broken. Dog should not be in house. She rounds the troops and goes back to empty (minus the dog) house and lures it out with 12lbs dog. Little dog is once again horrified. Neighborhood dog is where it should be. Calm is restored. Daughter lives in family with radical problem solving and a traumatized dog.

Family Humour.

So, my mother decides to no longer have disturbing outbursts...

"What do you say to the drowned chauvinist?...Stop being so SEPSIS-t"

Followed by creepy laughter.

Then How Come This Hook's in My Head, Fool?

If you know the quote, I give major kudos.
I doubt you do. Oh the perfidy.
The endless hours I've spent on youtube, surely making me a better person, are starting to seem pointless.
So I have a new friend.
The dictionary.

Do you like it?
My choppy communication skills?
Phrases instead of sentences?
I don't.

So somewhere during wringing my hands in music class and repeatedly clicking the facebook bookmark, I realized something. This is that I will call my collection of artwork, "God". The finger necklace, the dirty syringe...anywho, I believe the head will be an asexual-looking being with flies swarming, escaping from its mouth.
If you're looking for some decent literature, some intellectual rant about world affairs, or heartfelt poetry, you're on a blog. A free blog. Smarten up.

Hmm.
These people with your spurred inspiration and compassion.
Their willingness to accept only because you like the feel of ink.
Are wasting my time.
Go back to your hypocritical wasteland.