Nietzsche's Eyes
Poetry About Being a Woman
Kiss me once, before I die.
Maybe that was my sin.
I never needed you,
You were never there.
You taught me a lot.
Trust no one.
No one cares.
You didn't.
Drain me of my innocence.
I am wise to the world.
I must die.
Don't bitch to me about priorities.
You don't care about the dead.
Don't tell me I was wrong.
God knows you weren't right.
Don't whisper sweet words
To poison my ears.
Don't stand close to me.
I see the knife you try to hide.
Swallow your pennies and drink your coffee.
Put it in the bank and hope she doesn't get it.
Don't tell me where to hide.
I found you out.
Put it in the bank to hide it.
Play your games.
Eat the dead.
I don't care anymore.
Destroy my world.
Unfold the sheets.
I won't try to stop you.
Leave me here.
Leave a mess.
I have no power.
Hide the pills.
Dump out the fridge.
It doesn't matter to me.
Spill the ink.
Burn it down.
I don't live here anymore.
So this is the way to innocense.
So this is the way to freedom.
So this is how I can lose the me
they've created
and never feel sadness.
I become all that I long for.
The only cost is my shame.
Why is it that something we hate so much
holds on to us so dear
so that shedding it
is like shedding our skin.
I'll stay here in the misery.
Perhaps I can leave tomorrow.
Perhaps, but I doubt it.
I'm a chameleon.
I blend in nicely
with the walls
stained slightly.
I can't be seen
with a blue pen
and a clipboard.
Strike a pose.
Light shines right through me.
There is nothing
to distinguish me from
the background
except this neon green nail polish.
I just merge with
the furniture.
I'm just another couch.
Move me.
The shadows,
slinking along the wall,
consume my form.
New water,
drip
drip
down the wall
leave streaks.
That's OK.
It's funny.
The wall becomes more interesting.
I can't compete.
Stress
Today I chose the
Right path.
You never know when it's
The wrong
One
Until it's too late.
Nirvana seems so
Distant when
Everyone is
Running you dry.
Stay until
Tomorrow
And you'll see.
Nobody gets
Dirt on designer jeans
With little
Hearts
Everywhere.
Righteous Divas
Everywhere wear them.
I've never had
Ambition to face the
Masses
Cause it seems futile.
Only those with Playboy
Mommies are
Invited.
Nobody
Goes to the
Fires of hell.
Really they go
Over to
Montana.
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Created June 8, 1998
Updated November 11, 1998