–editor

Kelli Johnson has IT in spades.
Like Marilyn Monroe.
Like Angelina Jolie.
La la lee lee la la fucking fucking la.
It’s good to be Kelli Johnson and she knows it.
Some random hungry dick is forever knocking
at Kelli Johnson’s pinkest door.
Yoo hoo! Kelli Johnson!
Got something for ya, babe!
Teddy bear cookies.
Tiger roses.
Sloppy cunnilingus.
Whee.
It is Kelli Johnson’s world.
I am spit
on the bottom
of her
shoe.

Less Than Summer Fling

He saw my lipstick on the Wendy’s straw.
He saw my lipstick on the champagne flute.
He saw my lipstick on the stripper’s nipple.
He saw my face without makeup, my naked face.
He saw my cellulite.
He saw my flab.
He saw my cunt.
He saw my ass.
He saw my bruises.
He saw my stubble.
He saw my tears on the small dark balcony.
He saw my desolation my sorrow my pathetic self-pity.
He saw my scorned woman fury.
He saw my cheap tight Wal-Mart cowgirl shirt.
He saw my dirty laundry.
He saw my trashy shoes.
He saw my Facebook.
He saw my blogs.
He saw my Twitter.
He fucking SAW me.
I was seen.

Plane

I’m sitting in a room with cracks in the walls trying to keep
from killing myself then John Denver comes on the radio
that is always playing inside my cracked mind.
It’s enough to stick a loaded gun down my throat.
It’s a bottle of lithium washed down with a bottle of vodka.
No fucking note. John fucking Denver singing about simple
happiness like it isn’t quantum fucking physics.
John boy dead all these rat ass years.
All because of an assembly required plane.

Forensics is the cutting edge
that slices through the dark.
 
But the beast of thirty years ago
is the old fool in the park
 
who draws his knitted muffler close
to ward off winter’s chill.
 
It’s hard to think he goes to kill
an hour or two each day
 
to feed the sparrows and the ducks
and see the kids at play;
 
but harder to still to contemplate
the faces in his head
 
that rise in with his remembrance
of the ghastly, graceless dead.

i don’t really want to be here. four walls talking to me like i know what’s going on. i don’t really want to answer your questions. i don’t want to tell you about the fucked up things that happened to me, but i feel them coming out anyway. yes i’m on that, yes i take those, yes i did it on this with them. no you don’t know, yes i will wait. where am i going anyway? i want to forget you i want to forget how they breathe and how they sing. i want to forget midnight snow-covered stoops and declarations of love. i don’t want to tell that story about valentine’s day gone wrong. maybe he threw me around. maybe i punched him in the face. maybe we made each other bleed. maybe we fucked in an elevator, or a bathroom on new year’s eve. there’s a possibility that you could replace all these things. right before the fall, you could be the space between. we could run away from my past together. or you could judge me like the rest as i tell stories about what happened on that night with people who don’t even want to know my name. i wasn’t trying to make you into something portable i wasn’t trying to simplify your identity, i just wanted you to take me with you, i didn’t want to be separate and the same. affect me. can i affect you. i don’t want to forget you. i want to remember i want to want to remember us and this and last night and every single one that follows. i dont want to be here. wondering where you are and what we are what we did or what i’m doing and why there isn’t a we but a me and a two-step around easy answers. they always told me don’t be so willing to give in, i said i hate playing games, can’t i just let myself feel like normal. now i know why everyone pulls away from giving in. it’s too easy to fall forward, and you can’t pull back.

Can’t Get Enough

you said you were done with girls like me
told me to walk the asphalt
drunk and disorderly
kicked me to the curb with a steel toed boot
and left me running in the rain
we will play this song in your car
over and over again
because you are my drum beat and i am your bass slap
we are crashing these words together
we are harmonizing misery with tambourines
you lit my cigarette the wrong way
i burned my lips and bit your neck
but i thought you were done with me
way before that
so start the tempo
we’ll get this music out
we’ll write a new jam about my drug use
we can discuss our problems in lyrics
and you can bang me all night long
i never knew you were so acoustic
you didn’t think i’d last the night
but we woke up together
and we’ll do it all the same
because you can’t get enough
you can’t drive that car away
from the wreckage that is me
you can’t get enough
this is all you want
all you want in love

Things and words that I love and maybe over use

asphalt, cigarettes, strippers, cumming, cunt, blood, knives, fingers, bones, fists, you, me, again, whiskey, pills, shooting up, drugs, lines, handcuffs, iron bars, veins, black, bruised, fuck, kill, murder, cut, victim, intestines, throat, ripping, teeth, transforming, wolves.

Why are you scared, why do you run?
You don’t like the women that come in and out!
They open your eyes, make you question what’s it all about.
The song that the devil sings, couldn’t that be your favorite hymn?

Now you’re scared, now you’re scared!
You have nowhere to run,
You can’t go out in the daylight, nowhere near the sun!
You live in a realm of nightmares and goodbyes
Oh you’re so scared you seem to fly right by!