Saturday, August 8, 2009

jesus fever

i used to babysit zach and amanda.
on easter eve i was doing just that.

i was tuned into the history channel, sucked in on some "jesus easter crap" special. back then i wanted to believe, i wanted to be saved. however; i had my doubts.

"jesus easter crap" was freaking me out.

"jesus, are you truly the son of god?"
no answer.

"jesus, can you make it rain on these hoes?"
no answer.

"jesus, if you are by any means my holy saviour, let yourself me known to me!!"
no answer.

that's it! i will only accept jesus into my heart if he shows himself to me. appearing in a head of cabbage would be fine, leaving a little note on my daybed that reads "michelle, it's me.
-jesus" would be fantastic, or just fucking meet me at strabucks, i don't give a shit how you do it just DO IT!!

it was jesus fever.

parents come home, drunk, ready to fuck.

i go home determined on finding jesus.

it was a spooky drive back west on this average easter eve.


there jesus was smack-dab in the middle of cumming street, 50 feet in front of my 1992 black blazer in all of his jesus glory!

i slammed on the brakes, my blood left my heart, my sternum went up in flames, and my head was filled with some sort of radio static...i didn't want to be seeing jesus. not now. not ever.

frightened, i deliberately took my right foot off of the brake pad, and placed it purposely on the gas pedal. i pressed down with my big toe. i moved.
jesus didn't move.
i moved more.
jesus just stood there.
i began a steady pace up the street.
jesus was on a skate-board. jesus was on a skate-board?

jesus was a 12-year neighbor boy named eric on a skate-board.

thank god for jesus.

Friday, May 29, 2009

leave my tits out of this!

all of the neighborhoodlums are preaching diseases while i spin your blood in disco party machines

i am a forward time traveling gypsy,
i am a fever for the beasts,
i am a michelle colleen murphy.

i consume fiber,
i consume vodka,
i consume life.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

this is my only advice

never fall asleep on your back.
you'll wake up terrified, with a cold sweat.
you may rest on your back, but you must never dream. the sides are fine, but the belly is best. always remember to 'roll over on your belly!' i know this.
always make sure the restroom is clear of humans.
if a mortal enters (may god help you) while you are in the stall, remain quiet. remain still. wait until they have flushed, washed, and left. then you may continue. i know this.
while crying, stare west toward the sun.
she will warmly dry your lids, cheeks, and lips. i know this.
she loves you for you are hers.

i know this and i know that but i will never know about you.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

the first time i died, it was horrible.
i didn't even look cute.
i hadn't showered in days,
my hair was a greasy mop upon my head,
bruises and bloody cuts spotted my legs,
straggley hairs formed knots in my pits,
and my breath reaked of a sleazy sailor.

my fatality was an empty one.

i was turning on the water to take a shower,
or maybe i going to take a warm bubble bath......there are some facts of my parting
that still throw me for a loop.

silly me, i forgot the curling iron was on.
(i was going through a phase of setting my hair in very tight curls;
maybe i was trying to immulate my grandmother, she always
looked liked a classy muriel.)
clumsy me, my tiny ankle got wrapped in the cord.
unstable me, i splashed in the running water.

tiny currents of electricity danced through my body as i was taken over by
the waves of an indoor sea.
it hurt so bad.
i heard the doctors say i broke my back.
my ears and my nose and my mouth were running with blood.

i saw the position, color and status of my death:
crooked, naked, green, bloody and lifeless.

i could have gone in such a fashionable way.

this is how i picture my next death: lipstick, a purple dress, black high heels, a handsome man on my shoulder, and a screwdriver resting on a coaster next to me.
shaved pits, no bruises, no cuts, clean hair, and the breath of a lady.
i'm attending a fancy, late twenty-something party with my lover,
and i choke on a dick...NO, not a dick, not a dick.
and i overdose on some coke...NO, not some coke, not some coke.
and i slit my wrists when i walk in on my lover fucking the early twenty-something waitress...NO, no fucking, no slitting wrists.

i can't plan my next departure.
that's like planning my next birth, which is an entirely different story.

Friday, March 13, 2009

and to the hawk's delight

shamus found a rabbit hole.
he said he saw the ground tremble, and i was quick to join.
oh, how sweet they are! one baby bunny, two baby bunnies, my, FIVE baby bunnies!
no mother rabbit in sight.
i scooped one up in my child-like palm. i couldn't have been more than 8 years old. man, 8 was the year for me.

would i contract some sort of rabbit disease? would i grow whiskers and would my front teeth buck out? would i start craving carrots and fucking all rabbits in sight? no, that's silly. there is no such thing as a rabbit disease.

i held a helpless life in my hands. elaine told me i would drop him.
and i did.
i dropped a helpless baby bunny on the murphy's cement driveway. my heart sank into my gut, my brain began to boil, and my lungs collapsed as i watched a helpless baby bunny roll away in front of me.
i broke his back legs.
i couldn't think. i couldn't think of anything.
i ran inside and elaine screamed "I TOLD YOU SO!"
i scooped up an ever-more helpless baby bunny and sat him back in his hole with his four brothers and sisters. maybe carrots will help? yes, carrots will do the trick! i nervously placed carrot slices in their hole, and somberly walked up into my bedroom.

the next morning i somberly walked toward the rabbit hole.
the rising sun displayed such a horrible sight!
rabbit parts scattered everywhere! guts, brains, eyeballs, feet, baby bunny noses; every organ a baby bunny could possibly have! all thrown maniacally across the side of the murphy's house. who could do such a thing?

and to the hawk's delight, mother rabbit smelled my human stench on her baby bunnies.