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Blue Flask Nov 2019
Muscles twitch in a ******* meandering
You are skirting the edge again
Fibrotic restriction of failing lungs
Punch the muscle the size of a fist
Keep on keeping on **** you
Build me a box of screens
Let me put my head in it
Drown me in fluid entertainment
Fill my head with anything other than me
**** and ******
Reality and macabre
The world is ending
The people who get paid to do so
Will say
The Amazon is on fire
The ice is on fire
Honk Kong is on fire
Lebanon is on fire
What the hell
Did polar bears do wrong
To get set on fire?
Blue Flask Nov 2019
Snow falls for the first time this year
The cyclic rhythm, haphazard flurries on a windless night
I look out over the parking lot
My dark room behind me
A dark world ahead
A hundred ivory beetles
Descended from the ebony sky
All but one rest, one giving off a firefly’s staccato
Some music is playing
In a room eons ago
It’s so soft outside
Muffle me with your frozen embrace
The remnants of journeys cross the otherwise perfect concrete
Bare feet running running running
If you stomp down hard enough
Do you think your soul will be crushed
Freeze-dried and shipped across America?
I want this so badly to be a perfect image
But the cell phone tower
The highway
The golden arches
Things can be ignored
If you tell yourself they can be
Blue Flask Aug 2019
Crisp ***** tears flow from my blood
Breath in
Bleed out
Drink in
Wheeze out
Warm water for my pelvis
I spend my days in a fiberglass womb

The lights burned out in my bathroom
And it doesn’t bother me because
I only ever bathe in the dark
Something something dysphoria
Words drop from my mouth
Like sulfur granules
Actinomyces acting like what my eye sees
Holy Ghost
You smell like sulfur
And feel like heaving muscles

Punch me
Hurt me god
The holy trinity
Ironic init
When you take that away
All you have
Is
To
Try
Blue Flask Jun 2019
It’s the legacy of I and me
In the faithful 23
A claw machine in a gas station
Random luck picks the stuffed prizes
I’m so full of wine and beer
That I couldn’t handle the claw
I write stories about to lesbians
Falling in love in a coffee shop
Like that song
And can only go
So
So
Long
Till I need to stop
Blue Flask Mar 2019
There was a girl
A sad girl
With hair like untamed ebony
And eyes like tombstones and the universe
The type of girl that looks at you from under her untamed coal field
And smiles a beautiful thing
A ceramic smile
Soon to be stained by to much coffee
To much rot gut *****
The type of girl that sits naked in the dark
In a bathtub full of scalding water
The type of girl that fills subway cars full of poetry and lavender
Sitting bundled up in too many layers of clothing for this hot hot summer
The type of girl that works the nightshirt at a Walmart stocking shelves
And spends her breaks writing down story ideas in her journal
Stories about a funny girl
With clipped brown hair

One day while filling the shelves with organic caged beef
She remembers she left the journal out in the break room
And she rushes back to grab it
And stops dead in the doorway
Because someone is reading her words
And she begins to panic
And she begins to panic because the  person who is reading the worlds she has spent months scrawling
is a normal boy
The type of boy who smiles awkwardly at the red eyes she wears like a bandage leaving the bathroom
A boy whose smile is clean and whose eyes are clear
Like a watering hole fed by mountain water in the early early spring
The type of boy that knows she’s a freak and she wants so
so desperately for him to tell her that
So that he stops flashing that sliver of a monochrome crescent moon
So that he stops giving her hope that she can be anything other than that sad sad girl writing stories in the break room

One night she is cutting boxes
Her sleeves rolled up, in one of those phasic moods where she doesn’t care who sees the angry red lines crossing her arms
A scarred ladder leading to unsteady hands
She puts a new blade in and jabs it into the clean side of a box
But the blade doesn’t glide through the smooth brown skin
But the blade gets caught in the gnarled fibers
But the blade is new and the feeling of gliding through the perfect side is taken from her
And she pulls her arms hard while thinking about the girl with chestnut hair
The girl who had shared a box of wine with her last night
She looks down on the floor and sees a growing pile of red wine
And she falls
And people are screaming
And she looks down and sees the blade sticking out of her wrist
And she’s speaking calmly that it was an accident, she didn’t mean it this time
Her manager is on the phone with the ambulance and the janitor is glaring in the doorway
Forever trying to figure out how to get blood stains out from the stockroom floor
And the last thing she sees in the cacophony of chaos is the normal boy
And the grimace of fear forever plastered on his face in her fading memory

She wakes up in the hospital where people visit her like a sandstorm
And doctors come and speak to their clipboards
One day the girl with chestnut hair comes
And no words are said
Just feelings screamed into the oblivion between them
And she knew that was the last time the funny girl would ever visit
Weeks pass, and one day the doctor comes in and says to his clipboard
Insurance ran out, so you are all better now
Even though she doesn’t feel better

It starts with a fifth of ***** after you come back to your empty two-person apartment
Then a handful of pills
Than more cigarettes than your lungs can handle
This slow self destruction culminates when she goes out on her balcony
And sees her neighbor smoking a cigarette next door to her
And he just smiles and says
It never gets easier kid
He flicks the end of his cigarette after taking a deep breath
And the girl with eyes like tombstones and the universe
Watched the cherry red spark fall
As smoke filled the stars in front of her
The man chuckled
But it’ll all be alright
And the girl that with hair blacker than a crow
Nodded into the starry sky
  Feb 2019 Blue Flask
Middle Class
It’s as simple as it seems
The strings and the strands
How can it be undone

Bounce like the rain

It’s a monolith if it stands
An insurmountable summit
How can it balance

Preach like a wave


It’s genuine aspartame
The warm hollow
But I’ve read the label

Stammer like a-
Blue Flask Jan 2019
Words are lodged into the murky water of my mind
Pearls of meaning in the sandy beaches of the pineal gland
Like warm court proceedings
Is this fair? Right?
Did you know that some people
Aren’t groovily depressed
They can leave their rooms
Be real toothed cogs in society
I’m a toothless gear
Spinning with nothing to grip
Spinning my tires in black ice
Freezing in the fields
All I hope for
Is that next years crops use this dead meat
To make something beautiful
Something that can grow
Merry
Something that can live up live up live up
To the things it wants to say
My motif is a sown mouth
With spiders thread
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