i decided...

i decided not to go to bed. because i decided that

i am too frustrated,
i am too angry,
i am too bored
to sleep.

i watched bad movies on cable. it's kind of
what you are supposed to do
when you are unwilling or unable to sleep.

(ha, that
and masturbation.
but i was too bored,
angry and frustrated.)

ellen barkin, 1990: switch.
she does a nice impression of a man
returned to atone for being a dick to women
as a woman.

s/he has to go to hell if s/he
can't find one female who even liked her.
i mean 'him'. whatever.

s/he even gets date-raped,
though naturally s/he's too drunk to remember.

s/he is redeemed by the child of her
rape. the pure love of a female - her
baby. because she's a woman.

okay:

s/he is redeemed by the child of her
rape. the pure love of a female - her
baby. because she's a woman.

*beat*

i would have shot the television,
but i was too bored
angry and frustrated.

i dreamt last nite that i was
a she-ape, a lady sasquatch,
furry and sharp-toothed. (i wore clothing.)

this was the dream of my childhood,
my adolescence and my early adulthood
looping around again for another try. this
is why i like beowulf.

but i digress.

i found george bush on his ranch, and
i ate him. and the secret service.

but he's an alcoholic, so i
got drunk and slept it off in a ditch.

i found cheney in his slimy lair off
some piss-scented alley. i didn't
eat him. he was a zombie, walking dead flesh.

i just smashed in his head (squish!) and burnt him
up so that he couldn't take office. now that i had
eaten bush, i mean.

nobody noticed me in the district. i wore an
overcoat and hat, i only went out at night,
i had glasses on like i was blind and they
thought i was a big, bearded man on the subway.

i ate a large portion of congress as well. that
took time. and all that fatty, repulsive meat
made me sick as a dog. it took resolve.

but

in my dream, it was my job to clean up the
filth. have razor-grin, will travel.

i don't know if it's cannibalism if neither
you nor your intended prey are human sensu
strictu. but i'm willing to go with 'cannibal'.

i should find the persons responsible
for switch and eat them. a nice wild hunt
in the woods. give them a 'chance'. so to speak.

if you have insomnia, you should at least
be treated with some half-decent films to
watch. i mean, christ.

have some fucking respect
for who will be the walking
dead tomorrow.

(aside from cheney, i mean.)

it used to bother me. my dreams, i mean, not
that cheney is a zombie. i mean, that bothers me but
that's not the issue at hand.

it used to bother me that i dreamt of killing and
eating people. even though it was always someone who deserved
to be roasted on a spit, disembowled with a swipe of claw or
disarticulated for emphasis and ease of pan-roasting.

my therapist thinks it's normal. i didn't used
to, but i changed my mind after a while. i want
to force those who would force me into their mold and
incorporate them into my reality.

and digestion, though a crude metaphor, is
apparently all my subconscious can manage
on its own. though i never was a woman of
poetical skill, it saddens me i am also not one
even in my dreams.

so i decided not to sleep. because i'm appalled
at the lack of good entertainment i find while unconscious.
i'm boycotting my dreams of terrorising the republican national
convention as a giant, hairy cannibal she-monster, like a
great, hairy spider biting off the heads of the candidates
and their flunkies.

it makes me too annoyed when i wake up
and i realise it was another fucking dream.

yep, i decided not to go to bed. because i decided that

i am too frustrated,
i am too angry,
i am too bored
to sleep.