RE: RE:

to V.T.S., who i hope will dance with me a while in this boxing ring

i drive my car
like i’m stuck in traffic
behind an old lady
or maybe a young lady
who’s convinced herself she’s old
i’m antsy
i shake my steering wheel
and don’t get why i have to go
the speed that she’s determined for me

it makes me want to smoke
but i’m not a smoker
not after sex
and not stuck in this traffic either
it takes more
than someone else’s stubbornness
to make me consider breaking habit
that being said
i can’t stop saying cigarette
the word haunts me
i swear
it sneaks its way into my letters
it highlights itself in my vonnegut novels

america is shit
maybe
depends how i’m feeling
on any given day
or how i’m dressed
or what organ of it’s body
i find myself trapped in
vonnegut got the bowels
from what i’ve read
it’s not hard to see
how he could have concluded
that america is in fact
shit

it’s not all true
but
america is shit
it’s a lot of fun to say

america is shit

writers do keep saying it
god damn broken records
sitting at their typewriters
in a beat-up apartment
in new york
smoking a cigarette
but records keep on skipping
until someone
gets up out of their lazy boy
and moves the needle forward

cigarette

whoops there i go again
america is shit
i’m young and angsty
and america is shit

but i’m not america
and i try not to get mad at her
when she goes all manic on me
and keeps saying the same things
over and over

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “CIGARETTE”

About these ads

1994 SEATTLE LOVE SONG

seattle

minor chords amongst the dust
i’m the only one who comes to your show
the ground is littered
with empty bottles of cough syrup
i stand among the wreckage
and i watch you destroy yourself
i can’t look away
from the mirror you hold to me

i can’t escape the morphine sea storm in your eyes
envy’s eyes are as green as yours
envy’s eyes are as green as yours
you’ve got me wrapped up in your small pox blanket

you’re a newspaper fire burning in a rusty trash can
a shopping cart in hashbury at night
you’re not as glorious as i’ve made you out to be

i’m a gas fire and you’re the water
i’m a gas fire and you’re the water

i’ll burn like big giant factories
i will give you a sunset
the color of chemicals

minor chords amongst the dust

you left your phone in the car
along with our 1994 seattle love song
our song of retribution in a wasteland
we are just getting lost in different drugs

what happens when glass slippers slide
on black ice

we are the sound
of an i.v.
drip

i swear you smell
like kurt cobain

you taste like
sonic youth

someone popped
every single one
of the balloons
at our birthday party

someone left the car on in the garage

envy’s eyes are as green as yours
i can’t escape your morphine sea storm

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “TOO FAR DEEP”

MTV

what happened to you?
you used to be the one we could listen to
none of the crap
all of the things that really mattered

when did you trade in your grungy working class shirt
for this slutty dress?

when did you become defiant
to your own name?

are you unaware?
do you not see the direct effect
of your actions?

did you grow up
the younger, new and improved yuppie
do you not remember why
you stuck your flag in the moon
to begin with?

the funny thing is
now you’re just a snowy screen
hypnotic imagery
a magazine
that has been overrun
with too many ads

you are moving each day
further and further away from nirvana

your perception of reality
is enough to drive me insane
when did you replace your own graffiti
with face wash ads

when did you bleach your asshole?

when did you pawn your combat boots
for a slot in times square?

WHEN DID YOU STOP BEING MUSIC TELEVISION?

you are a lie
i can’t pretend anymore
welcome to the real world

i don’t want to date your mom
i don’t want to watch
as you twist the bottle open
for the eyes
on both sides of the glass screen

i don’t want anything to do with you
this is my total request

i’m not pleading for you to come back
you’re far too deeply and darkly addicted to yourself
and you think you look so great in rehab

i’m not pleading for you to come back
i just hate that you decided
to let us all watch you die

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “REST”