You thought I was mute, didn’t you? Bitch-boy on the back of the bike, there for show, right? They all thought that. Wez too, sometimes. He always liked to show off, Max knows it. I mean, what else do you call a savage who growls like a beast and pops wheelies? If that wasn’t assertion enough of his dominance, then maybe pulling an arrow out of his arm was. —But I’m not about to complain, I...
"A Fond Farewell"
Here I stumble along with empty sight in my mind and fury behind my eyes, forlorn and aching and cold from your lies. Finally I can stand, ready to fight and push you away. You, a mere pimple in this life, living to drive me crazy with that sharp tongue. I am not your “daisy,” baby, never was. I’ll make it simple: You’re a blemish to me and to mankind— just like the others, easy to detect. You...
"To: Who would have been my uncle. From: Who would...
Was is hard to fake that smile, Johnny? Or is it just “John”? You almost look happy, Which I guess is good, but I can only imagine What you really feel under that stoic grin. Truth is, I don’t want to know. I prefer To think you have whatever other twelve-year-olds Have on their mind. Maybe games, or sports, Or just being outside?—All the things you Wanted to do, but couldn’t, right? I guess...
"I only drive in the left lane."
Driving over the limit is just one of my sins in this world; is just one of my talents; is what sets me free— just to feel the speed my legs don’t know; to feel in control and set apart, in the far left lane as God, if for only a few seconds. The first line is from the poem “Stone Pond” by Voigt.
Cable back then only had 100 channels or so. Maybe less. Flipping through never took long. And that’s what I did every day after school at Meme’s house. After a snack (the best kind of snack—the kind only a grandma could make), I would grab the remote and flip away in a mindless drone of commercials and daytime television, waiting for something interesting to captivate my seven-year-old attention...
"How to Die"
Whatever you do, don’t keep any friends Cut all your loose ties and live Alone, in seclusion, in a locale with Little sun and warmth. Stay away from fruits and vegetables— Anything with organic nutritional value And stick to the grit and grime of artificial Grease and deep-fried calories. Avoid any possible physical activity That isn’t walking to the bathroom or Parking your ass in front of the...
I’ve yet to meet you, whoever you are. We’ve already spent lifetimes together In a million possible futures far From reality. Here, in this nether World of my own creation, you’re perfect And imperfect; a design without seams, So very human—riddled with defects. You’re real. You are real. But only in dreams I remember clearly; never when I Wake up, back in that lonely consciousness Where...
"The Golden Youth to his Master"
Come follow me into the Wasteland, So we can thrive on the desert sand. Just you and I, forever bound; Together in this desert mound. On two great wheels, we will survive, And pillion, always, I will ride. We’ll race the sun at breakneck speed, As dunes bow for your metal steed. Though all the long day we must roam, Wherever we lay our heads is home. The hot sun and cold moon we can...
Christian upper-middle-class bitch You fucking piece of shit Aryan, honor student. Piss on me. An in-depth look at your resident author.
My clitoris is a good friend of mine I visit her now and again, in the nighttime I can tell her things I can’t tell anyone else, wordless, while I’m lying in my bed Pining between the sheets Just her and I, old friends She knows my fantasies, my quirks, my fetishes, and desires But she isn’t repulsed, only supportive and receptive As she sends her approval in shockwaves of swollen sensitivity So...
"Don't look at me, I'm just under-privileged white...
Can you hate me any more than you already do? I, born of love and purpose I, raised with empathy and understanding, raised in love I, comfortable in my own flesh-and-bone body Can you hate me any more than you already do? I take my life for granted, you say. Do I? Or do I distract you from your own life— Which is to say, nowhere near, tragic. For a friend- Get your shit together.
Autumn, darling, dances near waiting for the wind to bring her sweet October’s kiss and early winters chill.
"Death is the Wind"
Death is the wind that races through the trees. Cunning and random to where it will go. The unexpected guest; Unwelcome— Unwanted. Yet without warning or reason, it blows. Sometimes a howl, a whistle. Or sometimes it flies on silent wings. Ever moving— Ever changing— Always there and will remain. Death is the wind.
On cracked pavement do my boots echo From the wake of my footfalls As I tread on. There are no ears to hear my steps— No one to acknowledge my presence here. Only dust; Wind and dust to greet me And remind me that I’m ‘lone; Remind me why I roam.
Willow watches in melancholy silence, Peering through her thick, green veil— Waiting for no one to find her; For no one to sit at her feet And kiss her soft bark.
Cold is loud and heavy; The assailant of scrawny fingers; Weak appendages protruding outwards As the lonesome branches of trees do. They have no defense from the cold— And what a toll is taken! Trembling and pained, Numbing into a dull ache, As the soft skin of the knuckles Cracks and burns. Poor fingers—poor hands— That suffer through winter’s trials, Anxious for the warm rains of April.
Lucid blue skies saturate the iris of your brilliant eyes. They wash over all you see—the dry mountains and endless highway— They wash over me. Stare for awhile, look at me, Let me look at you too. Don’t shroud those liquid orbs behind the veil of ebony lashes— I want to look at you. Let your rosy lips fall slack and rest While those eyes play voice to the heart And convey your mind’s intricate...
Night falls, Enthralls me, Tenders my brain so tired. Long gone— Time told by the sun, And rational thought expires. Leave me mourn the morn, For this— The heavy night is come.
Heavy metal Steel enclosure Bolted shut For Decomposure Rots and waits In iron tomb Wait for those Who want their doom Decomposure Sees your face Decomposure Wants a taste Screaming men Reduced to dust Harvest only For their guts Flesh and bone Will salivate Decomposure Dominates Decomposure Sees your face Decomposure Wants a taste Waits in cryptic catacomb Waits for you and you...
Set me free: Unleash the beast. Break. Shake. Gyrate. Once you set the monster free, You can never leave me.