Three-fourths and one-third.
Add it.
What’s the sum?
Crack!
A tear rolls down
over the fractions.
Saliva on the page —
head throbbing,
brain gone numb — beating against the bone.
A father’s heavy hand.
The strange taste of blood
— I taste it now.
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 6:02 AM UTC
My whole life is
like —
a jug crammed with hops,
foam spilling
over the rim.
A moment of pretending to be grown-up,
with a scrap of paper reading
“For Dad.”
A smile on the face
hiding the mustard sting of life.
Red Merino thick
with dense smoke and the smell of **** —
stings the eyes.
Sweat drips
down the filthy skin
of other boozers, just like my father.
Eyes slide downward.
The mock-laughing woman
with the gold tooth, with mock finesse,
fills the jug with hops.
A handful of coppers changes
owners.
The note is torn
like a life.
I see how the neighbor’s mutt
barks at other people.
Someone threw it a bone.
The **** meadow is warm
and colorful.
I wish I could — stop time here.
A moment of inattention —
and the vessel cracks.
Fear in my eyes.
I know the leather belt
with the metal buckle
will lash across bones till they bleed.
No one can help me.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 10:25 PM UTC
A nun presses the stole with her mouth —
like a mother ironing a shirt for her son.
One lives animalistically, and milk flows.
The other hid from the world
her craving rose —
white as a spasm,
dead as a stone on the skull mountain.
Always the same.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC
It flows —
what no one names.
Dogs wait in line.
The ***** pushes her love
forward.
Flesh trembles.
Crooked moans
hang in the air.
The holy virgin
spreads her legs.
Only a whisper
soothes irritated places.
Three fingers in red.
Then a swallow
of cheap wine —
afterwards.
A wild dance
at the end.
A scream
that knows no love.
No one asked
if it hurts.
A pale goodbye kiss.
A coin
thrown into the hand.
Holiness leaves the room
with empty eyes.
pro-fanum.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 10:52 PM UTC
The priest with holy water
above the mother’s womb
whispers dark prayers.
In the name of the Father
and of the Son.
Then she is forever a ******
She should pray for her son
but she cannot.
She becomes holy,
vanishes at night.
By day she pretends
no one remembers.
She protects no one.
She only protects herself.
At the cross
she kisses the feet for the spirit.
The priest glances sideways,
his tongue swallowing saliva.
A scarf hides the eyes.
Worms graze
on the meadow of the cassock.
Silence…
does not allow…
Greasy fingers
count the victims.
Judas hides dreams
of a new staff of Moses
made of gold.
Darkness enters
through the sacristy door.
And it begins again.
From the pulpit
God’s words are not heard.
Only the great belly
and sweat flowing down the temple
straight into the tongue.
Amen for the sinner.
The bottom of the basket burns
through the torn pockets
of the faithful.
Priest, pay up.
A holy picture in the hand
for seven coins.
The Pope hides his eyes
behind thick stone walls.
He spreads his arms,
prayers fall.
Descending into katabasis
through the back door.
Alleluia
falls to its knees.
amen.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 9:57 PM UTC