Nightly I yawn and fall deep into nightmarish slumber:
My incisors loose themselves from diseased, purplish gums
Pus accumulates in a boil on my upper lip
Despotic supermarket cashiers loom large
They punish me with bladed instruments
I am forced behind the toilet
I have only a bag of caramels and a bottle of bourbon
They have taken all of my spinach
I have been hoarding it for months
cans and cans of it
in case of emergency
I stand alone under a gazebo
Wearing only a pink cardigan
A crowd gathers behind me
They laugh at my pale sagging ass
They write bad reviews that are published in a scholarly journal
I cannot turn around due to severe whiplash
I stand before them, baring my embarrassing rear
and forming my malleable forehead into horns and antlers
with chapped and shaking hands
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30 comments:
Ok so it's not such a great poem but the point is that I am up at 3 a.m. I was in the studio working until 11:30 or so and then conked out and then woke up at almost 2, came home and now I am fucked. Sleep will not come. Sleep is millions of miles from me, I can't imagine it. The time is now for ridiculous fake poetry. I am suck incarnate!!!!!!!!!
Hi suck incarnate,
I am Bus of slumber. Hop on.
It will a mystery tour of synaptic dimensions.
First stop,
Mine (a Poem for Morning)
The light barely fills the shaft entrance.
It is weak a dappled in an unhealthy way.
The walls are slick with an expectant residue.
a warm seeping goo. No sound.
it is not true Haiku, mostly because I wrote it in Kentucky after my boyfriend left me. I need to meet more people.
"weak and dappled"
Are you tense about your show? I can't wait to see your pale sagging asses, I'm thinking they're going to rock the world and the scholarly journals will be composing aria's based on the revelation that in all creation, on the face of the globe, here below, under the sun there are no forms as lovely as your pale sagging asses.
MM, my pale and sagging ass sends its regards to yours... and I am messengering over a carton of spinach as we speak... may the nap gods be with ye, MM.
Mountain Man, I don't know what's gettin' you down, but I'm sending you the rays of light.
Seriously, I am, don't roll your eyes.
i hope you are sleeping right now.
Thanks guys...everything is ok, post-sleep. I tend to enjoy existential angsting hyberbolic melodramas so don't mind me. Degrading self seems like fun sometimes, especially when sleep won't come.
Armchair anxiety, is what someone once called it. I have to smarten up.
I am going to write a review of my ass and submit it to Art Forum. Is that a conflict of interest? Even if I am really honest?
Sleep is scary sometimes. Nightmares happen--fear is always lurking beneath the surface. I keep a collection of stuffed toys by my side at all times.
mm, i know of a gazebo you can stand under AND ride a motorcylce out of. if you are interested. but, more importantly. my outfit for the blog convention. ?? help.
What happened to the lavender sweats, FB?
get ready. i am going shopping for my outfit tonight. suspenders. teardrop makeup. there are so many fantasy outfits. maybe i will have to change half way through the convention?
MM, you are the despot of ether and I worship you fully. I am your onion, I mean minion.
please be with me others. mm. you will wear your hairpiece i hope.
what should I wear?
I want to look like goo.
i will wear mc hammer pants to the blog convention so if i shit my pants you won't be able to tell. sometimes i get nervous and shit my pants. social anxiety.
okay. That's a good idea. I'll bring some diapers just in case.
w.w.
wow, you really laid it on the line!
I just read aloud your last statement to Sea Monkey, who is still laying on the floor laughing 1 whole minute later.
"The job of the artist is to stop the lies of society."
-Sea Monkey
ok, forget it. i tried. i put on the stonewash jumper, the black electric jumper. not long enough = some kind of desert toe. you know what i am saying. so i will just be slightly off fb. if i had some hammer pants i would wear them. go ww. i support you in this.
Holy crap W.W.! I haven't laughed so hard since I heard the gansters making a rap out of "Maneater" on the Path train. If Ham brings diapers I will bring the baby wipes.
and the safety pins. I've got that covered.
there is room in the pants for all. see you at the convention center.
lion king! wow. i forgot about you.
remember art star?
will lion king and art star be at your party?
WW I can't wait to see you in your new look. Martin, Art Star and Lion King will both be there. They are forgotten embers in the guise of familiar characters.
I happen to own many a pair of hammer pants.
rape pants
I haven't worn rape pants since the old days at studio 54. I may have to break them out.
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