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
Welcome A.G. – inspiring and intense! A must read
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
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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Writing magic – Kindra’s got it!
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,
make my stomach into plastic
lined landfill, non-biodegradable.
I’ll die bloated with a bellyful of demons,
[ 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.]
OldePunk telling it like it is!
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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Yes! Jasper gets it right.
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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Along came a spider Named malice She was lured down a hole By a snake disguised as heaven She tried to drag me with her But forgot that I don’t slither Now she is withered In web covered hell Nothing left but a shell Of what she used to be A stranger