testing: testing: [scrape scrape scrape scrape]
hear that?
that's my lip ring.
testing: testing: one, two, buckle my shoe:
poo poo pee doo:

spoken word: have ya heard?
what's it all mean? what does it really mean?
what is it? what exactly is it: is it poetry? is it prose?
what is it: rants and raves?
some people want you to be: political.
and they want you to be pissssed offff:
they don't want you to try and be: honest.
GOD FORBID you try to be funny.
so, there's nothing more i can say, except that: right now:
wherever you are: listening to this: i can guarantee you:
i'm probably: somewhere: else: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

okay already: i'm here to tell you i'm having yet another shitty day.
i swear, sometimes my shitty days run into each other giving me a shitty weeks.
i think i'm in the middle of a shitty month... that's shitty!

my goddamn arm is totally fucked up.
i want to cut it off at the elbow.
i don't know what the fucking problem is! i mean, i'm a hygienic clean girl.
i smell good ya know... clean... squeaky!
strawberry glycerin scented soap everyday, all over me everywhere, come here...
smell me. taste me. good, hey?
okay, you can stop now 'cuz you're making me feel uncomfortable.
i hardly know you.

anyways, the point i'm making is i'm a well-bathed clean little girl, so then...
what the fuck is up with my arm?
it absolutely has devastated me.
it grosses me out.
it hurts like a bastard,
opposed to when i was having it done and it hurt like a bitch.

in the bible it says you're not supposed to mutilate or decorate your body,
'cuz god will get really cheezed at you,
but that guy jesus died for are sins right?
so i figure when i get to heaven,
right before i have a drink with bob karsnarik and andrew wood,
i'll get an appointment with god and explain to him,
i could wear long sleeve shirts and no one would see them!
i hope he goes for it.
i bet krishna and those dudes would let me hang out at their pad if god was too bummed at me.
or i could just wait at the gates for my mom,
'cuz she'll outlive me, and then she could go talk to him about me,
kinda like she did when i got suspended in grade
10 for smoking in the boys' washroom and she had to schmooze the principal.

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yet another shitty day.
sometimes i swear my shitty days run into each other,
giving me a shitty weeks.
i think i'm in the middle of a shitty month: that's: shitty!

he phones to yak and wack wack wack, this irritating boy.
step on a crack to break his back, for he brings to me no joy.
he speaks too long i reply in tongues
he doesn't understand.
can he not see i must be free, for me he's not the man?
dissatisfied, i hear his lies and reply candidly,
please, rock star man, change all your plans, and please stop phoning me!

if smiling raver chubby girls with fragrant barretted blond curls won't lead you to stray...
you got the job!
if you don't mind cigarette smoke or my addiction to diet coke and sex night and day...
you got the job!
if you promise not to make me cry and never ever tell a lie when i'm on the road...
you got the job!
if you love me just for who i am i'll love you back forever and baby i'm sold...
you got the job!

anxiety
breathless
cunt
damn
excitement
fucking
goodness
heaven
interesting
jitters
kitten
love
mine
never
open
pussy
quite
restless
stay
this
understanding
vitality
willing
xcuses
yes
zany