You are the Worst

For weeks now I’ve walked through every scenario Worst-case, of course What you might say or do How I would respond To make you hurt As much as I do I was ready How could I have left this one out? I should have known You and your fucked up thinking I want a do-over … Continue reading You are the Worst

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Introducing A.G. Diedericks – There’s No Dawn Where We Live

Welcome A.G. – inspiring and intense! A must read

Sudden Denouement Collective

There’s no dawn where we live.

I watch as you step inside my soul,  scavenging for a candle holder,

accompanied by an indefatigable passion to touch this purely

decorative heart.

In my hands I caress your ethereal skin, freckled with my scars. On

your lips, I turn your truths into lies

I’m all that you should despise

Oh, my beautiful marionette

When will you realize?

Tell me when it gets cold, and I’ll lend you my straight-jacket,

whilst I put on another disguise.

There’s an equilibrium in madness.

In our tunnel; you had the vision

to descry the years of loyalty beyond the brutality. And time has

stolen everything except our problems.

You see, I have always been the architect of my own abyss.

Until you came along and furnished it into your own wishing well,

leaving me to rest & dwell, in this never-ending boundary spell.

Where my subconscious…

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Bellyful – Kindra M. Austin

Writing magic – Kindra’s got it!

Sudden Denouement Collective

Excuse my protrusion; I suffer intrusion

of demons mine, and yours forced between my teeth.

I masticate while you masturbate;

fun to watch me swallow, innit?

Pour a stiff drink,

something acetic

acid—

make my stomach into plastic

lined landfill, non-biodegradable.

I’ll die bloated with a bellyful of demons, 

immortal.


Kindra M. Austin is an author (information on her book can be found here) artist, and a Sagittarius Valkyrie from the state of Michigan—Go Detroit Red Wings! She likes her drinks corpse stiff, music loud as fuck, and classic big block muscle cars. You can find her filing through the souls of the slain at poems and paragraphs.]

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make Believe

OldePunk telling it like it is!

RamJet Poetry

make Believe

Kiss kiss and make-believe.  Former slaves no longer free.  That’s not me.  I am not free to be.  One or three.  Coarse touches in loving hate.  Touching my body but not my face.  Clean the plate and do not be late to the falling of the city gates.  Wrap yourself in flags and olive leaf.  I still do not believe.  Conceive the intricacies in which to populate the morning news hypocrisies.  More or less punctuating the state of our loose skin and crumbling facade disease.  Unease creeps up into the playground of the democracies.  Where we go and what we know is no longer made up of niceties.  Or the 90’s.  Just drown me or shoot.  Take what I owe, I know I want to leave but there’s nowhere else to go.  So kiss kiss and make-believe.  I will come home soon and scrub it clean.  This festering wound in…

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I Die in the Water – Jasper Kerkau

Yes! Jasper gets it right.

The Writings of Jasper Kerkau

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I died again. In the waters as usual. It is always the water. Somehow it all makes sense. It is always the minor things. The minutia that pulls me under. The little, wet idiosyncrasies, stuffed words, distant miscommunication. I die over and over again. Each time, I emerge from the waters, gasping for air. Shedding my wet skin, warming myself by imaginary fires. There is always a new life, new thoughts springing forth from moist soil. But, the disappointment is daunting. The little, sad failures leave me paralyzed in bed, stomaching churning, limbs seized. I stand in the grocery store, gazing at nothing, avoiding mediocre conversations with a neighbor about apple trees. There is a scream boiling up inside me. A smile creeps across my face and I nod, backing away slowly. There is nothing I understand about their world. My days are secret disasters giving birth to revelations, new…

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