sometimes i wonder
(thousands of)
if he ever looks at me or if it is my imagination
(eyes gouged out)
i just can't handle all the pressure on me
(girls systematically raped)
and i watch the girls on TV crying cause they didn't win
and someone said they have no talent anyway
turn on the news.

(pornography made with babies no more than a year old balding middle-aged men raping eight year olds and one so lifeless she may have been dead)

and i lost my favorite lipgloss, dammit.

(it echoes quiet on canyon walls)


how much money does it take
to have an embyro as a slave?
the way we are headed where does it stop-
(at what point does this disgust you?)

flat-chested bodies sold
to grease-coated men
for once i am wondering instead
what came to him and said
here is what you want.
here is what you need.

did he ever glance upon a page of shakespeare?
(quote 'love is not love which alters when it alteration finds'
while a baby girl with big blue eyes cries while she is molested
on his computer screen)

did he ever drive down the road and know that feeling
of sunglass euphoria as the dust wind tangles hair?
and it's times like those you think of your grandmother.
but did he ever, at any time, feel that?
(while he disembowels her laughing and going home jacking off)

the im


image (SCREAM) image

flickers like an old familiar movie black and white through his mind and
in she floats out she goes (dancingdancingSCREAM)
and again in she floats out she goes (strippingspreadingSCREAM)

but we should not try to add any humanity to him
for he is not human. this is not human.
i still wonder

once, so many hot suns ago, he was a little boy
who liked bugs. and dirt.
what whathappened

(corrupt the amish, he whispers
and coat the lollipops in dirt)

perverse dreams always lurk in the organs
kinda dark & sludgey & lonely
kinda mad & frustrated
they always lurk in organs and
v e r y s l o w l y
to the eyes
peek around irises
and long to drink the blood.
long to violate innocent
long until it aches like hunger
until it
hurts until you cannot handle-
do something.

so dreams move quickly to the smile to the fingers and move quickly to where the baby sleeps in pink MY BABY SLEEPS merry-go-round
up&down on the pony with the golden hair and always open always watching eyes but but
you smear her blood over them
(you just hate to be watched)

does this

(and the tea boils in the kettle)

cut your tongue so you cannot speak to protest when they get you on your knees and they stick machetes in your orifices and cut your eyes slowly
so you smell the blood and scalp you alive so you feel the burn and carefully pour hot oil over you and we would never let you die NEVER LET YOU DIE
never give you that honor that privilege that peace that hope that security rape you rape you burn you hate you bleed you rape you until the world,
only until the world, when the world goes away.

and the tea boils in the kettleā€¦

(it echoes quiet on canyon walls)

to read this poem in it's real format: redrush (dot) net (slash) fp (dot) boiling (dot) txt