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By Misti Date: 2003 Jul 02 Comment on this Work [[2003.07.02.05.57.6508]] |
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there are too many Leno jokes Letterman witticisms Britney Spears is an easy target the world doesn't need another outrageous deejay in the morning making you spew your coffee with a hearty HA HA HA!!! the laughter is cheap and nervous the laughter is covering something up and so I am through with laughter for tonight tonight I am crying for real crying like it's my job my career of choice my dream realized because tonight I am crying for Sonny in the last scene of "The Last Picture Show" and I am crying for my fractured ego and blown to hell ideals I am crying for Matthew Shepard all blood except for the two pure streaks that began at his bottom lashes and I am crying for David Koresh because he was in the middle of his message and he believed it was as real as the tear gas and "These Boots Are Made For Walking" and the rollicking tanks and I am crying for all the babies who are crying because they are hungry or scared or lonely and have no idea that it only gets worse and I am crying for the guy in the bar in Lawton, Oklahoma on July 4, 1999 who told my boyfriend to tell me he loved me because you never get enough chances and I am crying for my grandmother because she begged the funeral home men not to take my uncle's corpse away even though she had held onto it sobbing for two solid hours saying You Can Breathe Now, Sweetheart You Can Breathe and I am crying for my sister because she is the closest thing to God I have ever known even though she let me drive home drunk out of my mind the night I partied with her in Dallas because I made a fool of myself and she didn't sympathize she held me up the night I screamed at God and puked up vodka and cheap wine with bloodied wrists she turned me over all night so that I would not drown in my own puke and tonight I am crying for songs on the jukebox that I can only imagine or remember all the dances I sat out all the spilled beer and whispered sour somethings from strange lips that could not form my name let alone an alibi and tonight with an aching head and rivers of warm snot I am crying for Nicole and Ron and Sharon Tate and her unborn baby and I am not done the tears are still flowing and I am not going to let you cheer me up with your bullshit because you are a pitcher of lukewarm Crystal Light and I am tired of fighting for some sugar so I am going to keep crying for all the fags who keep getting beat up and humiliated and all the whores who keep getting raped and butchered and discarded because pussy with nothing behind it is the most dispensable commodity in the world and you can laugh at Ozzy or Howard or Homer or Hank you can wear the greasepaint and give away giraffes and penises made out of balloons I am going to boo hoo some more about all the junkies and alcoholics who die forgotten in mommy's trailer all the cheap coffins and plastic flowers and untended graves are going to be remembered by me and I am going to climb the tree to see Jesus until he promises me he'll come over for spaghetti I am not ready for your Kleenex cootchy cootchy coo fuck you for trying with half a heart keep what you got you'll never have more I am storing up for the dry times the numb times when I cannot manage anything more moist than a spit I am hitting my heart with a merciless hammer a yammer of a million anguished cries no size too small yes, if you must know, I am crying for the size five dress I lost in storage and the bra someone stole from a dryer in a laundromat in San Marcos the summer of 1998 and the fate that pounced me once again from behind with a bandit whose last words to me were You Really Are a Pretty Woman But I Hate You and yeah I admit I'm crying because no one liked me in junior high and I was in love with a rich tennis player named Chris Considine who made fun of me with his snotty friends because I was shy and pale with dark hair and red lipstick and no defenses and I am crying because there were too many flings and not enough rings too much fuck and not enough luck I am starstruck a fan an admirer I answer every RSVP I don't receive with a resounding YES I am crying my best to be noticed I need a diaper change yes, I am full of shit and knowing that doesn't make it any easier I miss telephone marathons and prank calls and Valentines and Peanuts specials and Rudolph and Burt Ives at Christmas and Daddy having all the power with his cobalt killer eyes and swinging leather belt I miss the lack of ambivalence the black and the white and the up all night playing Atari watching weird British shows laughing laughing staffing my head with all the friends I would ever need tonight I am greedy I need more salt. |