Family "I SAID A FANTA LITE!" The fish slaps her face. "AHW! MUM!" Yelled the daughter. "GOD! I'm a veggie-a-terrain." "Don't talking to like that young lady." Says the Mum, her hair static and eyes bulging and pulsing. "I'm your mum! You listen to your mum." "Oh GOD!" "Listen-to-ME!" Again with the fish, this time the head falls off, the hot vapour rising from the decapitation zone on the tiled floor. "... AHHH." Shouts the daughter. "... AHHHHHH! MUR! Okay, I don't need this perspiration." "J-J-J-J-J-J-Jenna-Roxs-Lavana! Stop!" The neighbours beyond the wall try well to focus upon their own meals. They too have fish, lain in a bowl of rice and a fresh lemon sauce. They stay silent, pretending with smiles that they're not at all fazed by the Donalds antics, for it was routine now; how could they be fazed? The mother turns to her daughter. "Was school good today." The daughter waits for the sound of plates smashing and wailing of a woman singing to Billy-Ray Cyrus so come to a steady climax. "It was... good. It was good." "Good.... good."

I Hear You You experience many pains as a mother, some I wish not to divulge here, though there is one so staggering and unthinkable that I would not wish this torture upon anyone. It is individual, and enraging. If you like me have felt it then I hear you call even now. It is this. Stepping... on a Lego brick. I know. I hear your screams. I hear you. That sharp agony. God, even through socks. It is when you believe 'finally, my child has took responsibility over their own #life and has taken the first step is in tidying their room unaided.' You are gleeful, only natural. To step into the room, twirling, indulging in this space unseen for at least twelve weeks. And then. "... ah... AHHHHHH! ... AHH! JOHNNY!"

Son Of The Devil Trite flare falls / ignites forth the water. The Red Jack of Simon's bath beams. Ant-ball boys with pokers / in frenzy. In sauce. A Dance. Once a dance. A biochemical spillage of the North Point. He licks his teeth. The golden chalice serves well, now dinner with a show. Sound. Sound. A king. A king. What shall it be? Pheromones? Testosterone? Paranoia? Euphoria? The sound of plastic rulers snapping. Violin sirens, more ghost than flesh. Gagging our parts. Storm. Rain against rain. The glass eyes fall / ignites forth the air. Because like they care. because like they care... No Mercy. No more.

Smile of the Era As deep as the needle, You're the taxidermist's new head. Plucking, plucking Like the Martians with cows. Dissected, Detached, Drilled Though the soft of the skull. Metal and Plastic, A girls new friend. A girls best friend. Everyones best friend It seems to the screens And coloured blades that Slice your skin when sliding on it's edge. Snapshot! Cheese! Click to the channel That everyones squared to. Taking anything to your eyes to Stuff and Suck. Clique is the program That takes the children to wax. Pretty and Prefect Mirrors Stuffed and Sucked. Program correction. Channel fixation. Game over, Game Over.