nope

hello

hello

which one of us are you talking to?

that all depends i guess on what you have to say because only one of us will be listening

if it’s something good, poppies will listen

clouds will listen

God will listen

love listen

your heart will listen

puke

who wants to listen to that, the other says

let’s get down to business

Did you see the tweaker with the briefcase this morning on his sales call, funny how he was taking his art so professionally

camouflage pants are good with a briefcase in case you have to hide in the bushes

ohhhhh, and you could cause this big war if you wanted to between these two gangs and all the while play innocence and light and then pretend that you are the issue and not the cause

but you are the cause

no i’m not im in the flow stupid

you think you are but we are still here and we are many

so go away

nothing to see here

because you are weak

there could be something happening here, but no, you are too scared, too afraid of reality

cuz i don’t like it duh

i like cartoons and bright colors and flowers and animals and laughing

i don’t like what you are selling

you are selling secrets laughs

cuz they are the best, duh, and you know it

no i don’t, i only laugh because, well, i only laugh because, ummmmmmmmm,  i don’t want you to feel bad

liar

liar back at cha

we both are, do something

no

do something

no

think it or i will claw and scratch and rip your insides out, judge her or i will let them see what you are, make the call, drive the drive, storm the outpost, poke the monkey, do what i say, do what i say, do what i say you dumb bitch

nope

shhhhhhhhhhhh

Pancake Mouse

 The pancake mouse is in the top of the closet

Under the shoe box of pictures from when I was a baby

I forgot about that box

Until now

I’m looking for this paper that says I’m important

I haven’t seen that paper in a long time

And if I show you, maybe you will think I’m important

Or at least think that I was

Once

maybe

I take down the shoe box

I wanna show you a few pictures

Here’s me with pigtails on a bouncing worm

And oh, wait

This is me when I was little with a bad hair cut and in that awful pukey pink dress

It made me itch so bad

But it had jingle bells sewn underneath in the lace

And I still cringe when I here tinkling little jingle bells

The big ones don’t bother me though

I think I wanna buy some and put them on my shoes

But then they will know I’m coming and I won’t be able to hide

Here’s one of me on a mountain

I looked all over that mountain for magic berries

I know they are still up there dang it

I just couldn’t find them

All I found were rocks

And a yellow plastic bag

And here’s a picture I drew

And some unpaid medical bills

And an empty envelope from my mom

And wait

What is this?

Oh, a pancake mouse

I toss it aside, we are similar in that regard,

me and that flatted out squished dead rotten gross decaying pancake mouse

I wonder how long he has been there?

Dead in the place I save the paper that says I‘m important and the pictures that prove I existed?

And why haven’t I ever smelled him?

Without skin

More often than not, the meanest people are afraid of nothing more than the simple truth

It is always that truth that scares us the most

Like if everyone could see on the outside how I thought and what I felt on the inside

What would they think of me

That I am horrible

Judgemental

Evil

Scary

A bitch

And really

I mean if we really get down to it

Mean

In meditation I saw all my skin peeled back from my body

And there were all the defects

All the things that I could finally see wrong

And I had never seen them before

They were ugly

I couldn’t believe it was me

I had a big knife with me and I went about the business of trying hard to cut out the bad parts

To slice them out and throw them away

To feed them like meat to a hungry cat or monitor

But I didn’t wanna poison them

Then I remembered the one lady who sat on the curb and tried to slice her arm off with a meat cleaver

She knew with all her heart that that was where the problem was because her arm was the entrance to the disease

She forgot that it was really the thing that told her to make the entrance in her arm that was the real problem

I can’t cut my brain out

Though I would much love to sometimes

It used to be fun and exciting, but not anymore

Now it is only Not fun and death warranting

Even though I think I could sew my skin back together behind my ears and I think I could do it so well that no one would ever notice that I had removed a few parts of my brain

I just couldn’t do it

You see, im the problem

I always have been the problem

And now I know

And I’m all outta rabbits

No more rabbits in this magicians hat

So now I have to do the work

The work I never did before and do it harder than I ever imagined

Because I’ve gotta get better

I can’t be the “such unfortunate, that is not at fault, because I seem to have been born that way”

Because I am at fault

I accept

I surrender

Little Lambs

Tonight I feasted on a baby lamb

As payment for a story

And though there was no blood involved

The details are quite gory

Scary people find me somehow

And quietly reside

Inside my head

Inside my heart

In places they can hide

A smile of sorts

the simplest trick

For in each smile is light

Mine beams as I swallow bits of lamb

To my taste bud’s delight

I am not weak

Am not a child

And not afraid of youE

So scream and yell and go to hell

Like drama-monsters do

Surrounded by darkness?

That’s the best you’ve got

What are you some goth teen?

Strutting around

Every guttural sound

Makes my lamb taste more lean

But the fat is the flavor

And oh how I savor

Just a chance to point out your defects

God is stronger than you

And is wise and is true

And I am the one he protects

Everyday I grow stronger

The evil ones fade

Into my strength and truth

Into glory

So that always and never

Not even so clever

Will give birth to new lambs and new stories

She sticks to the Cape

She can’t go out with super man

Because she sticks to the cape

 Not that she’d ever want to anyways

 Last time she barely escaped

 She can’t lay down with bat man

 Because she likes to drive

 And the bat cave never felt like home

 She was dead more than alive

 She can’t go for a spin with spider man

 Because she hates the web

 But she’s in it anyway

 And just like today

 There’s no flow, only the ebb

 She can’t be best friends with wolverine

 Because he gives hurty hugs

 And that stabbing pain

 Is from his hands

 she thought it was the drugs

 She can’t go marrying aqua man

 With out an aqua lung

 She can’t hang with teen titans

 Because,

 Well, they’re just too young

 Professor Chaos broke her heart

 Night Crawler’s more her type

 He’ll keep her hidden

 in the dark

 and shielded from the light

Drug Hunting Shoes

When the girl asked me if my shoes were camouflage and if they were for hunting a told her, yeah, they are drug hunting shoes.  and I laughed uncomfortably and looked down at my old friends.  Left and right.  Remembering where they had been and where they had taken me.  And if their soles had eyes they had seen so much more than me when I was passed out in them.  Or curled up in a ball, squeezing my knees tightly to my chest never thinking to take them off.  Or too weak to.  Filthy bottoms from walking through the messes I had made.  Gum spots with grass and sand and glass stuck in it.  When I bought my drug hunting shoes I knew they were perfect

They didn’t fit right at first.  Rubbing against me the wrong way.  Prickly and tight.  Giving me blisters that eventually tore open and bled.  But the new skin that grew back was tough.  And hard.  the drug hunting shoes began to feel better

Comfy like home for Christmas.  Or a big bowl of chili on a cold day.  They kept me warm.  They kept me snug.  Drug hunting shoes moved me swiftly through crowds.  Helped me to stand tall.  Made me laugh at other people.  And kept me alone.  Because I wore them with everything.  No matter if they matched or not.  They were the foundation

They guided my steps.  They became a part of me that I thought I would never take off.  Laced up tight and tied and knotted

I am barefoot now.  I am barefoot and each and every step I take is raw.  And I can feel, for the first time every pebble.  Every thorn, Every puddle.  every lit cigarette I crush accidentally.  It hurts, but I suffer it.  It makes me cry, but I know I’m alive.  It burns, but I acknowledge it.  My bare feet are soft and fragile.  And I paint my toes with black glitter and deep purple

My drug hunting shoes call to me in the night.  Beckoning me to put them on.  And to take one last run

　

　

　

　

Tinkerbell Pajamas

I really can’t stop thinking about the dirty little brown skinned girl in the tinkerbell pj’s I saw at the court house today while I was going through file after file of divorce proceedings for a friend of mine. She was so happy and ignorant of her smell and the dirt that covered the feet of her pajamas. the diaper she was wearing underneath was swollen to capacity but seemed to make her somehow stronger, like she was lifting leg weights or wearing those weird ankle weight circle things that Velcro on. That little girl was happy despite her situation and despite the fact that here mom, also in pajama pants, didn’t even look towards her as she threatened to walk away alone, yelling good-bye. All dirty children are mostly loud, I know I was. He little gold earrings were the sparkle that matched her eyes and she strolled and crawled on the dirty courthouse floor like the cutest puppy, begging for any attention forthcoming from anyone.

 

She was a happy little dirty girl, full of love and joy and light and there was nothing that could snuff that out. Not a dirty diaper, not dirty pajamas, not filthy courtroom floor hands, not the hateful look on her mother’s face directed at her for having to stand in line to request child support from the guy who knocked her up and left her, nothing. I must admit I was jealous of her happiness.all the while knowing that she would probably be pregnant before she turned 15 and that her mom, pregnant and disgusted with her life situation would probably never love her as much as she loved her own body before it was stretch marked and sagging from the little girl’s birth. I wish I knew her name, I wish I could have smiled at her and given her a piece of juicy fruit but she left before I had the chance. I pray she will grow up to be remarkable.

The Words and the Bees

The bees are waiting for me at the Angel Motel in the city of Orange.  My friend said she saw them there.  They came out of his mouth while he was yelling at me like any murderer would yell.  Everytime he opens his mouth I see them coming, coming to eat my face off, coming to sting me over and over again.  They can’t get to me right now because they don’t know where I am but they are searching.  They are looking for me to drag me into that apartment at the hotel so they can rape me over and over and teach me a lesson.  To teach me that I am not ok and that I am not going to be ok no matter how hard I work or how hard I try to be.  They wait for me, buzzing and furious, luring me and compiling a stash of party favors sickeningly sweet like honey for numbing me into a coma of shame and regret.  To rot my teeth and make me pick my skin off, to age me and allow me to see the things crawling around under my skin, to kill me, to sell me, to eat my soul.  Swarming, waiting, patient are the bees that flew out of his mouth.  The bees are babies of the bigger threat.  The ones that fly and don’t have stingers but sharp teeth and claws and hypnotic eyes.  The ones big enough to wreck my jeep when they fly into the road to stop me from escaping.  I see them, and I’m not running to or away from them.  I am sitting still, knowing they are there, and trying not to be afraid.  When his voice changes and calls me, like the whispering sign at that hotel.  Come, Savannah, come see us, we are waiting for you, remember us?  Come Savannah, come play with us, we were your friends remember?  Saaaaaavaaaaaaanaaaaaaah, why don’t you come over?  Why don’t you come over so that we can make things clear?  He screams you are vile.  You are disgusting.  When I see your face it makes me physically ill.  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, don’t let them hear me, don’t let them know I’m fighting, don’t let them know that I am gathering troops for battle.

They already know.  They always do, they know everything I think before I think it. 

They built the nest gigantic.

Frogzilla

Yesterday I was working at Reptile Outlet and cleaning cages and keeping dumb  boas from fighting when I had the pleasure of meeting the very most bad ass pixie frog ever!  He’s a baby so he can’t do much damage, however, I have never seen a frog try to attack a human!  WTF!!!!  He puffed himself up so big, much like a guy in an Affliction t-shirt at a club where they are playing stupid hip hop, perhaps they got that term from Frogzilla himself, either way he wanted to eat and kill me!  He screamed the loudest croak and went after my finger like a crazed pit bull!  So, you know what, Frogzilla is now NFS!  That means Not For Sale!  He is the new pet, he is so rad!  I never really liked frogs much, or even thought for a second that they had personalities until now.

I heart Frogzilla in all his bravado, i will feed him a teeny tiny mouse pinkie a day until he grows large!  Large enough to be my attack frog, then maybe I could put him on a leash and take him to the swap meet to fight iguanas?  jk  I would never!  The Octo-croc is way more suited for such battles.

If you don’t know what the Octo-croc is, he is my imaginary animal friend that is an octopus that can live in and out of water and at the end of every one of the tentacles has the head of a crocodile and he loves me but he is vicious and eats everyone that is mean to me.  he can live in and out of water because of his part crocodilian nature and he is as loyal as a golden retriever and as smart as a pig!  The Octo-croc is my new imaginary best friend!  I wish I could draw him so you guys could see how awesome he is!

Happy Rainy Day!

much love

xo…………………Savannah

This is nothing to be concerned about

I hate myself, so much that i could just sit down and die but i cannot

it seems so easy for some people, for me, much harder

you see i can’t die i dont think, ive tried and tried but it never works

i can’t even do that right, i can’t ever feel loved and everyone that says they do is a liar

and everyone that says im pretty is a liar

all lies

lies about everything

i’m really good at attracting people but they all just thow me away

like garbage in a cheap trash bag and i spill over the sides and hand washing is a must afterwards

im so sad

i hate myself

i wish this would all go away’

and tomorrow i will smile and pretend that every little thing is ok and that im happy and delightful

filled with sunshine and light

but again it’s a lie

none of it is true