The ballad of One Crazy Bitch

how do I interpret my dreams  
that start with lust and end in screams
maybe I’m just one sick fucker  
like my mother used to mutter
yes, she was famous for her cursing tongue  
from well before I was very young  
but in her words I find no reason
for my mind-eyes ugly treason
 
so maybe then, if not her, dad  
who was, by all who met him, bad  
and lovable as road kill grime  
which is why mum fucked him for a time
but he was gone so early on
that blame on him is a stupid song
 
still the question lays unanswered  
why am I the mad girl-bastard  
who has the dreams  
that end in screams  
oh tell me do  
oh tell me wont you  
what drove my mind to fatally tear
and inside find the things I fear  
then show them to me year on year
my mind a kind of cross to bear  
 
if I one-day figure out  
what the fuck that’s all about  
I’ll write it down in wordy books
for doctors to take learn-ed looks  
and say “of course, it isn’t that”
bitch’s just mad as a witches cat
 
yes, doctors are good at naming things
with all the good that ever brings
but curing the mind is another task
“fix me, doc” too big an ask
so, fuck all this internal hooting
tonight I’m off…stranger shooting

I’ll gun ‘em down in the dirty streets
and leave ‘em bleeding at my dirty feet
then when the snipers come for me
to fix this failure properly
I’ll go down pumping one final scream
Loud enough to quiet my dreams