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DEBBIE KIRK
I laid it down And then I started hitting the stuff Hard and immediately the contacts fell onto the floor, the ashtray broke, and you lost all the disks you’d spent hours on For what? FOR WHAT? to feel sexy for a moment or two to feel glamorous to feel wanted to feel pretty and If I wanted to I could dress in all pink To feel like wanting you to make me breakfast in bed even if it is captain crunch and you struggle and we giggle as you try to juggle the bowls to the bed. to feel open to feel ready to feel hatred I wanted to just relax and have fun like everyone else And I don’t even get any of the good shit out of it not really Paranoia to the point that would drive the average scumbag to insanity not the seasoned kind Like me soaked in flowers and still the foulness does not leave me my friends are robots my enemies are conspiring and my lovers are “faking everything” bring in the goddamn muppets and Peter Jackson and my head would be a hit. and I tried to lay it down today For the first time And here I am again High like a Spiderman Kite… And I guess I will try again tomorrow. Levy walked the walk Flipping in this flophouse And I don’t think it’s because the building is haunted I don’t think its because the drugs are so accessible I don’t think its because my neighbors are eccentric or insane I’m pretty sure I just quit hangin on. Maybe when I was at the very peak of a roller coaster ride And I screamed. Empty bottles and cigarette packs Are all over the fucking place. Trying to decide if I can still eat That 5 day old pizza And not die Cause, when I go I’m going with style I want to sink in my nails And be the one To push the button for the ride And I think about levy And I think about levy The words don’t come the same now I used to have at least One Beautiful thing of my own The words. Like an alley cat I know That they like to take a night off And prowl around. Picking up things here and there. And they lay the bloody corpse In front of me As a gift. And so I’m supposed to repeat the cycle Be replenished. But sometimes when my words go out Digging up old buried treasures They bring back things That I never wanted to remember. I think about levy Too bad Suicide is so beautiful and romantic Otherwise, I’d be all over that. Huck Finn in the city I have a very healthy sexual relationship With myself I never did put up that shiny canopy That reminded me of unicorns and Sword fights with sticks on the playground. I can’t lose the image Of me cutting out my pussy With razorblades And placing it on a cake server. And when I ask myself “What would Huck Finn do?” I have visions of my own handmade wood raft and the splinters it left behind If I was hitchhiking to visit Santa I would pull up my skirt And show some leg For the ride. I think people are out there Everyday Hitchhiking to Jesus I guess his pen name is L. Ron Hubbard 666 People have been hit Crossing the street in front of the church To get to the ATM machine. Debbie Kirk is the author of two chapbooks “Lost Words of Suicide Lovers “(Pink Anarchkitty Press), and “Valley of the Gallows” (Black Hoody Nation). She has been published in a number of online publications including the following: Babel Magazine, Mystery Island Publications, Impetus, Cherry Bleeds, Mystery Island Remark…a ‘zine of damn fine poetry, Lummox Journal, Foole’s Gold, The People’s Poet, Sex and Guts etc. She has also been published in a number of print ‘zines, to name a few: Failed Seeker, Fearless, Open Minds Quarterly, Transcendent Visions, and Austin Celebrity Profiles. She is the creator and editor for Pink Anarchkitty Press. |
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© 2003 Underground Voices |
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