*We were squeezed from corruption
armed with the monstrous cutlery
of rippers and tearers of rationed meat
for a day, for a day, for a day:
the butcher gives his best cuts
to the young and godless divorcee
find us, keep us : a spectre hiding
in the dark pig iron rust hooks looping
through your *** and shopping lists:
smelting your coin
and punching your face
Company is the full knowledge
of our protracted, 3 -stage decay
burn drift degradation
eyes crusting shut
in doom and settling bomb silt
palms up, taking a punishment
in the mothertongue
ignoring lessons in the gracious
expectancy of departure
We, A legion of ancient clockwatchers,
in on the joke of time
and folk fetish of apple-cheek poverty
[Gasp!] The gruesome romance of class!
!you cry! !safe! !always safe!
in the nuclear hotdog option , which is
observably, the title of this advertisement
We will never get you[ ]you're awake!
and your atmosphere is still In Da Black
We watch you
watching
the 5 car pile up
catch up rolling down your chin*
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
When I was a bit younger
there were exponentially more trees
that seemed worth looking at,
setting aside a whole afternoon to see them
from different angles
& painted
in the varying palettes of the most
transformative, gradual shift of spring days.
Alone. Accompanied. In company, but alone.
To touch it and love it in the touches, I'd wonder how
it celebrated birthdays
& the kind of person it would be
& if we'd have anything to talk about
& know that we wouldn't.
I am just a dumb kid, but i will have it:
the patience of heart to understand
and be traumatised
by its past and future.
It grows & grows in spite of all who loved & abused,
chooses to shade the heads of something beautiful.
It grows and grows to be useful to the nest, the burrow.
In crisis it stands
powerless to the decisions of cutters who mistake its silence
for ambiguity.
They've never had it, infectious in their nightmares like I have,
each bough strung with a noose
seeking our abundant earth,
earth that starved, dangling feet
crave hungrily but never reach.
Or in dashed breath dreams of lovers
spilled at its roots,
****** into the architecture
& forever petrified
as living, wooden, cry of pleasure.
In crisis it stands,
not wearing any clothes
& abstaining the vote
Weary of the machine
unable to make the music
or eat the food
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:17 AM UTC
Hit her with the birch twigs and marshall a crowd of claws and peepers.
[and then try]
Bag their eyes with sordid flares and scandalous noisemakers.
[and then try]
Blur the distinction between tribute and torture: just enough of each.
[and then try]
The audience backs odds on purity or pregnancy.
[and then try]
She will be a critical darling or she will not be, depending on the rhythm of the spell and the keenness of her appetite.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
he is impotent
in heartache and ****
is the sum of his reading
and the fault of his breeding
he is undercooked and underfed,
my love is a pig for the bleeding
and dough for the kneading
i have made him so thin that
streetlight shines through.
it is a mockery
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
*You know I could've been in pictures.
sham pretty enough, Can point my mouth
can cry and **** and come on cue
would've gotten my **** out
didn't mind if that's what it took.
I make a composite of all the bits of me
to get work. My hair My perfect ***
my exposed midriff and inny
the times my eyes made it
I hate all of these things on their own
but when stitched together they make a clean girl
who knows the bad muscle ache of work
I miss the bits that were never returned though
and I know you kept mementos
of the nights you dismantled
and reassembled me in your image
always leaving something out
always swapping me out and
swallowing for safekeeping
give them back, I scream at people
who I know, know you too
give them back*
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Emmett looked at me like that
the first to do so in the year + 2 months
since I debuted the scar
Our paths literally crossed -
*I drew them later on a street map
with a big X where they eventually converged*
- on the turn of the stairs
between floors 3 - 4 at the mall
, the way he ran from those cops
lithe economy of gesture
so balletic in flight
that I thought about how
his hips might interfere with me
before I bothered to look at his face.
I just wish Emmett didn't have
swastikas in his eyes.
Mom, I met someone.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
Betsy sits on her roof
and throws rocks
IN THE FACES OF FAT PEOPLE
Betsy want shots fired,
she's not the violent type
BUT SHE DREAMS IN BULLETS.
She read all the news
and it gave her cancer
IT PLANNED HER DAY.
The first thing Betsy did
when the news broke
WAS TO **** HER DOG.
No one noticed anyway
but she put a sign outside:
'IT WAS AN ACT OF MERCY'
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
I've lived in all times but these.
Going uncharted, through lands
i've only heard of in pubs
The crossing is a hop
over a low wall
and into brambles
Where I'm from,
the sea never allowed
for fruit and flowers
There was only
the blast, rolling
off the water
The air here
is patient. The people here
are patient
They've never been
on borrowed time.
Boredom belongs to them
And it's hard
to recognise
their joy
This, a balm,
to a girl who knows
happiness in others,
only as the white-eyed,
frothing panic
of consumption.
I am in a different land
They tell the time
much as we do,
But it counts for less
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
the 102nd Iteration of Sonic Moses brings down the Sound from the mount. The Prescriptive is delivered in 2 second cuts to every Citizen of Nowhere. And in this bare proclamation every man sees his desire
and his prejudice and it guides him and his screams and his traffic. I am told I do not feel pride in my home. sapphiral anubis is barking on TV again and it makes no difference how loud they warn against the bitch's blight: her pups bite themselves rabid to be like her. And everywhere the ill men are dying in style.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
Bad hangover today:
the only spectres at the feast last night
Were me and an illegal TV
- and the latter doesn't drink anymore
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 5:44 AM UTC