There goes my good night sleep in my own bed before moving more shat to the cities. I try and spend a good weekend at home and instead I'm up like a mama cub, mad at the crazy crack head that threatened my fams. life. YUP, our house-mate has a crazy ex who has been calling every 30min. to check up on her ex-bo. and she is all hyped up on whatever drugs and threatning to come here and shoot us all up with a shot-gun. All it took was me gettin' on the line to tell her I would appreciate her not calling while I try to get shut-eye and if she obliges I will not call the cops. I'm too hyped to sleep right now. Funny...heres the first draft of something I'm working on. Hear dat, FIRST draft and excuse the irony...

Good women leave scars
they can open you...so slight
pulp and juice will trickle
from core and pore
leaving hot trails of
blood, sweat...honey for
the journey these good women take round your flesh
These two-tongued lizard women
so dark they make macabre
sound like a nursery rhyme
Women laced in piss, blood, bile, and the dirt
they've been fed
Laced in the allys, dumpsters, stairwells and flop houses
they've been bred
They have been opened and filled with disease
Learned their saliva was coated in poison
and with it they can thrill you to the brink of
a cunt-attack and breath you back into dead-life
like only a woman can
Women and disease
are the only things that truely multi-task
and good women live in the darkest armpit's of sin
scouring at the artificial light
gadgets, guise and guy's
who promise them protection
They travel alone, picking their scalps
till they bleed
They travel in packs with mad canine's
teething and cutting
cutting...
stockings, fishnets, slips, garters, bows
jewels, they eat
eyeliner, they lick
bodices, they pierce
cunts, they cut...up
...everything
every symbol and anti-symbol of their
sin-sational selves
they do it
in the darkest, sickest,
hottest, wettest places
In your head, in your bed
they live
like worms, lizards, wolves, magicians, witches, devils
horned beasts
dick-less, dick-willding horned beasts
spinning you on one hand
while the other hand does the worlds work
Loving you with the precision of a scalpul
Hating you with the softness of a rabbits fur
cause they come clothed in the skins of dead beasts
hiding...hyde, blood and more hyde
hide and seek
sick as sin to a world dull as dick
born that way
Good women are scard
Good women leave scars
and I got mine