

TheSwanSong of K.MildredDeuloc Let me go then, by myself,TheSwanSong of K.MildredDeuloc by ~LadyLazrus
where my life meets my dreams, where they meet what life hath dealt,
To find where the sky separates to a halt, holy oil
and pool water-it's not my fault-to walk to the edge of the grinding sea,
to immerse in the waves-not coming back, free.
And will it have been worth it after all,
the leg lifts at the gym, faux finishing my bedroom wall?
Will it have been worth the smiles and the screams,
or frosting each night in anti-age creams?
To say, "I am Lazarus, coming to tell you truth:
it's only tap water in the Fountain of Youth."
In the bars, men come and go,
joshing about the perfect breasts of th


Stuck With Me I say that you're stuck with me-Stuck With Me by ~LadyLazrus
Bubble gum on the sole of my soul,
Handprint on my heart, lump in my throat,
Coat of many colors in your smile (my favorite jacket),
Thick accent pinching pink my tongue,
Abdominal hollow with your name,
Scar bisecting my clavicle (a triple bypass to you),
Displacement shadow in my lips,
Song careening through my psyche,
Broken record playing on heart cords,
Angel at my back, demon in my ear.
Vacuum where my life was,
Waking nightmare in my dreams.


Fighting Neverland Push her down, drown her all you want.Fighting Neverland by ~LadyLazrus
You'll not escape what you are:
The child in the photograph still knows
Who she is, what she wants to be.
She is still pug-faced and persistent,
Haughty plastic crown propped
On top of disheveled yellow hair.
Aspirations still writhe
In her bugged pupils,
A dream (to grow up to be you)
Ever present in her coloring book diary.
Will you try to erase her memory
Through excuses and a new haircut?
Does a BFA make you (or anyone)
An expert on the world she has always known?
Burn all the pictures you want,
Get witness protection involved, if you dare.
She'll need no warrant when she


My Father to Charles Bukowski have you got a minute?My Father to Charles Bukowski by ~LadyLazrus
you say.
my head swivels. you know
for the next sixty seconds
we have more time than God.
never feel sorry for a self-inflicted gunshot wound,
you say.
I have never been shooting,
but I know how a gun is loaded.
I have never been in love,
but I know the ache of broken heart.
I'm sorry, though the boy knew
the 70x7 were mine to make.
I'm different, though he re-loaded and took aim.
I will always have a minute.
I will never own a gun.