one of the things that amuses me is writing and reading bad self loathing poetry, even if i don't write nearly as much of it as i used to. my love for the stuff is probably the sadomasicist in me coming out *l*. in either case if you have the patience or just enjoy torturing yourself, here's a few of my literary gems to read.

1:46 (1994)
(see note below)

i watch her from the shadows as she passes my alley.
silently i approach, it doesn't matter though.
she'd never hear me over her walkman.
when i'm close enough, i attack at the jugular.
okay, i know. its cliched but its not my fault.
i picked it up from all of those great silent films i used to love back in the twenties.
i'd probably have stopped draining her blood by now, if she were still alive.
unfortunately i was quite sloppy when i attacked.
broke her pretty little neck. its a shame really. she was rather beautiful.
when i'm finished, i gently lower her body to the ground.
i killed her but that's no excuse for being rude.
as i retreat into the shadows from whence i came, i can still here pink floyd pouring from her radio.
"don't worry. nobody lives forever"
"nobody lives forever"

the girl on register c (1995)

i'm trapped in george orwell's nightmare.
history binds my soul to the wall like an antiquated circuit that burns itself up.
on my side bar coded gears grind on.
across the barrier she smiles at my torture.
flickering shadows of the past bombard me...
an occasional gesture, a smile, a posture...
the only thing tethering me is fear.
of warmth, my future, reality

borden's advocate (1995)

i told you all but you never believed me.
about the angels in everyone's heads.
it's ok though, i was wrong.
they were really demons,
who snuck in while i wasn't looking.
i should have seen it before.
my oversight needs to be rectified,
luckily i have the solution.
i'll just have to cut them all out.

untitled (1997)

the dead rocker
the golden one
he took to wings of silver, in a blaze of fire lit glory
the passions and the furies tore his soul apart,
ground him down until he was like the fish.
they never let him live
he was always the one who would never be anything.
even the fuzz of his old left hand guitar agreed.
it was over in a flash, the new messiah left us all behind the way reverend james did.
the feedback fuzz, i'm becoming him.
the spin's getting faster, i keep hearing the echoed feedback over and over.
to boddah pronounced, i see that last green moment of linoleum.
sometimes i wish he had stayed with us to do the sad fade away like a ghost.
only i missed the train and didn't hear his teachings till it was over.
fade out to black, in he comes in his old mr. rogers' librarian sweater as if nothing had happened.
he smiles and rolls back away with another disciple and runs across the unrecoverable tracks.
the time the god spent in the light is blending away and getting pulled into the sun's orange glory

another night at work (1998)

the wet princess with blonde hair
green thunder crashes
like the hue of her tight fitted tee
she brushes back the damp locks and sort of half heartedly smiles
if it weren't so muggy her elfen form would shiver
i wonder if she'll say those words my heart longs for....
"could i get some marlboro lights?"

haiku (1995)

what? poems due? NOW!?!
i got a good excuse, ummmmm.....
my pet dog ate it.

 back?

note: all of these poems are works of fiction, especialy "1:46". i am not a vampire, i have never killed anyone, and no, i will not make you like me no matter how nicely you ask.

i'm sorry i had to put this note in here but i actually had some girl write me and ask me to turn her into a vampire too *l*. i would have played with her but she was too young for me, so i broke it to her nicely about the difference between fiction and reality. the next person isn't going to be so lucky.