"Over there
Witness all the rooms you rent,
Moments, Memories,
all the pieces of heart
gifted by lovers or strangers"
said The Cherub.
"My arrows choose which you will cherrish."

"While we lay entangled here,
Having consumed one another.
Do you wonder if we will cherrish this?"
said The Archer.

"Would you like to come even closer
And discover the answer? "
replied The Cherub.

"Every memory I've choosen to cherrish,
Has Shattered"
says The Archer.

"Well of course it did,
You tried to choose.
We cannot choose
which memories we will cherrish.
We may only pull
faith From quiver.
Give in to potential
without intention.
Close your eyes.
Empty all your senses
Until the only sense you have is Trust
I'll fill those empty spaces,
can you feel me?"

"Yes, you are close."

"You have my quiver now.
We still have no control over whether
We will cherrish this moment.
Put your faith in this bow.
Draw back our arrow
Trust it's natural path.
Close our eyes.
Forget this room.
Volley the whole tower"

Originally Written as The Title/Description of My Paper sculpture of the same name:


In your Sillouette,
Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain.
This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies.
I am lingering.

You are gilded beautiful
Bare breasts pointed at Chandeliers
nipple Capstones sealing perfect Arches
I am a foot protruding from your sculpture
In mustard.
I am that blot behind your Hip Bone

Cold Draft from the window
Opened Opposite the Magic curtain
A breath of ocean waves
Our bodies casting illusions
In ripples of Moonlit fabric
Dancing around our sillouette.

Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos
Silk screen thighs,
Underbust Corset

where the breeze whispered

where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones.
growing where we Calloused
In our Roughs
In our trenches
Rubbing Leather against Silk

You invested in our common interest.
A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling.
Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices.
And your body.

I love the Chips in your paint.
I hate the man who painted you.

infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism
Sick with a Spiderweb brain
Spinning from your imperfections.
You are so, perfect.

Artists come from all over
To watch the magic curtain.

Your Golden arching Back.
My Mustard Toes.

we all look at you,
even you look at you.
we do not Blink.
Just stare, position ourselves.
behind this curtain.

Our callouses grow like the black moss
bodies marble under ocean pressure
erode from the chill winds
Your archaic exhibitionism
Carved From Counting Gazes
Mustard eternally pondering
why our sillouettes, different colors
Drawn by the same moon,
Casted on the same cloth.

The yellow aura
spiraled my night elf hunter avatar
as the DUN-DUMM
of false accommplishment
incited my addiction to
instant gratification.

I had just Leveled up.

The quest giver
gave me a choice

Shitty boots
a less shitty Dagger

I took the shitty boots
fuck the system
they looked cooler.

I was going to stomp cave spiders anyway,
what's the point of relinquishing
looking damn fine.
for an extra Attack Point?

Shitty Boots.

Shitty boots ALL Day long.

A naked human avatar
facing a naked gnome
Named: "Buzz Lightyear"
He is Also dancing,
at crotch height.

This is Typical starting zone

I stayed up
watching Toonami all night
Naruto, Bleech, Inuyasha.
I could tell the sun came up
not because there was a window in my Kitchen,
there wasn't.

Tom and Jerry came on.
everyone knows
when Tom and Jerry came on
you were no longer pulling an
"all nighter."
You're pulling a
"Drink enough Soda
to get through the rest
of the day-er"

My entire diet
these past two days
has consisted of Gushers & Vault
Clearly Coca-Cola is superior
to Pepsi.

Therefore, Vault
was superior to Mountain Dew.
Which is the typical choice drink
of my internet brethren.

I don't know why I dyed my hair black nobody online could see it
But it made me feel
like my Night Elf Avatar

I wanted long white hair
I realized that's impossible
in 6th grade
So I Bought & Settled for Black
At least I could be like
"L" from death note,
Long sleeve white shirt, jeans
with no shoes.

I could also be
any other black-haired charecter
From any other angsty Anime
Because of course I loved angsty Anime
Because I held my cell phone like "L"
From Death Note.

I always dreamed
of this singing venus fly trap.

A Fuzzy Memory with a lost Origin
I realized seven years later
the Singing venus flytrap in my head
was AUDREY 2
from Little Shop Of Horrors.

Netflix reunited us in College
Audrey 2 finally Serenaded Me.
I listened with Voyeuristic Intentions
As memory saprilings grew
into the full songs
relieving the void in my soul
Lingering for a Man to be attacked
by a singing venus fly trap
in his own kitchen.

But only once,
Because I firmly beleived
movies should only be seen once
until I stopped
dyeing my hair black.
Despite watching Space jam
more times than any kid born in 1995 Should have
but still
all the kids born in 1995
watched space jam
more than any of them should have
because they were born in 1995.

when I first saw little shop of horrors
it aired just before osmosis jones.

I love osmosis jones
almost as much as I love
Buzz lightyear, of Star Command

Buzz lightyears robot companion XR
reminded me of Cyberchase
and to this day Cyberchase
is the best show to watch
when you have no idea
who Gilbert Godfrey is.

Zoombinis is better
than oregon trail.
and also better
than Tom and Jerry.
but not better
than leveling my night elf Hunter.

I think I spent more time
getting my Zoombinis
to look just right
then I Spent deciding
what outfit to wear

Black striped Hoodie
Unwashed and worn every day
Grey skulls all over it, because
of course it had grey skulls all over it.
Black pants.
Black socks
No actually, THESE black socks.
Okay, got gushers
and my Coca-Cola.

I now take as much time
to choose my outfit as
designing the perfect Zoombini.
however I have yet to replace
my legs
a skateboard.

I think that every grade before sixth grade is fourth grade
and 6th grade is basically 7th grade
which is to say my memory skips them both
to remember ending eighth grade

I miss being cool on the Internet
Whilst lame and forgotten in real life.

like black sock
wasn't quite as good
as that other Black sock.

I wanna go back.
To the seperation
Of who we pretend to be
Vs. who we actually are.
To be dramatic again.

An ideal self on the internet
Who is obviouslly not the real you
is decades more comforting
than Some Characatureized
Facebook Profile.

Today I was offered a choice

Work A minimum wage job
continue my useless college degree.

I decided to write a poem, because
fuck the system.
If I am to Decide where to respawn from
Let it be poetry.

There is no spiraling Yellow aura

Sometimes there is snapping though.
Or a lost memory
of A singing venus Fly Trap.

I am a pretend person.
An avatar
just now, I have skin.
You can touch me
I breath without a Macro
or even pressing any keys.

I cannot bring myself to
Watch Space Jam again.
I can Identify Gilbert Godfrey's voice.
I will buy my children zoombinis
And it will collect dust
When all they want
Is to watch the fifth Toy Story movie
Way more than any kid born in 2020 should.
And all the kids born in 2020
Will Watch the fifth Toy Story Movie
Way more than they should
because they
will have been born
in 2020.

And I will rant
about the Missing LGM
and Warp Darkmatter
betraying Buzz Lightyear
By joining Evil Emperor Zurg
So Buzz was forced
to get three new Partners
Princess Mira Nova
Audrey 2
and Osmosis Jones.
because I will have Forgotten
Booster & XR.
Because Booster and XR
Never made a god-damned Facebook Profile.

Nobody exists anymore.
We are all represented by our avatars
holding ourselfs up to the standards
of our photoshopped reflections

Being disappointed and overwhelmed

I Take pills to forget that I am
Acting Like myself
but can't find any evidence of Existing.
Besides these memories
of who i used to be.

I want my internet persona
to be nothing like me
So that I may focus on myself
in the real world coherently.

I want thick black lines
dividing mental Venn diagrams

I want Tom and Jerry
To signal me
That it is morning, again.

Two weeks after the breakup
I watched my reflection
two fingers trace a puffy purple bag.
under my eye, A smirk sprouted
A loud Sargent boomed in my skull

Dear Maggot,
As we march further
Into the territory of single life.
We, The voices in your head
Have voted unanimously
Thumper, The results.

Sir yes Sir.
Nick your descisions
in reguard to relationships
Were convicted of self-destruction.

Here is some Dating Advice
From the voices in your head.

Don't Stick it in the Crazy.

I'm serious nick. Stop sticking it in the crazy.

Although cumming inside a woman
Whom loves you and wants a baby
Is a fulfilling, Romantic experience.
With Tinder dates this is no longer Routine.
Cumming inside a first date
Behind a lighthouse
Without a condom,
Should not be

Remember it is okay to fuck your friends.

remember it is not okay to Rebound fuck your friends.

Having sex with a new gender
For the first time
Is exactly like losing your virginity
All over again.
You have no idea what you like anymore.
Why isn't this working?
That doesn't go there, Oh
My god,
Please put that there.

Some of your ex's
Will start talking to you again.
You should still probably not sleep with them.
Okay once, but now no more...
okay seriously
...Oh never mind.

When a girl reaches for a 2-liter of soda
After having sex in the backseat of your car.
Do not assume she's thirsty.
She may lift the soda bottle to her vagina.
I know what you're thinking,
Yes it's that bad.
As the soda.
Magically disappears!
When she spreads her legs and says:
"Drink from me"
...and of course when you say:
She will get extremely upset at you, and
Scream at how terrible of a person you are.
While squirting
Vagina coke
All over the back seat of your car.

Please be very clear
About where you stand
On drinking vagina coke
From the beginning.

Just because someone is in a relationship,
Does not mean they won't sleep with you.
Asking if the boyfriend or husband is okay
With you guys.
Is a good first step to taking the higher ground.
Asking during sex
Might kill the mood.

eat plenty of Potassium.
foot cramps ruin everything.

Listen here maggot,
When a girl leaves something behind,
She probably wants a second date.
Even if what the woman left
Was Fucking vagina coke
All over your brand new leather seats.


Some of the people you sleep with.
By some miracle,
Will still want to talk to you.
You crazy asshole.
They might make amazing friends.
You might even have sex again.
If you're lucky,
They'll teach you something

Thank you for Matching
the Tinder Call Center.
My name is Nick and I will be helping you with your order today.
And your name is?

Hello, Port Veritas

I'm so glad you called
because you do qualify
as one of the first 100 people
I find attractive!

So Where are you from?
Oh Wow, I've never been there,
you ever Been here to Bull Feeney's?

No? Well look at that,
I guess we've never been
too each others places before.

Looks like we have something
in common.

What was it on my profile that got you interested in swiping right?
Oh I see, you like love poems,
you like new shit,
you just wanna make everyone cry.

How long have you been interested in that?
Wow that's a long time.

What else have you tried
to hear love poems,
see new shit
and make people cry?

Wow that's...

that's kinda fucked up Port Veritas.

That's really fucked up.

What's the worst part about dealing with that?
I see, well I'm glad you called.

Tell me a bit
why it's important
to do something about this now;
it's a little different for everyone.

I see, it's Valentine's day. There's a valentines open mic and LOVE SLAM Tonight!

I'm just gonna ask a couple quick questions to see if you qualify,

Will you all answer them for me?

Do You want sexy poetry?

Sexy poetry IS the best sticky note to receive in your eighth grade lunch box

Do you want Radical Self Love?

me too, let's keep looking

Do you want love Poetry?

You just want so many things from me that i can give you.

Do You want people to need a towel by the time you leave the stage!?

You're right, they shouldn't call it dry humping

You know, Port Veritas. I can't wait for you to watch this amazing show we have for you tonight.

As my profile states,
we're gonna give strangers this microphone for four minutes.
Where they are gonna say whatever the hell they want about terrible dates, passionate love, terribly passionate sex.
And that sounds great doesn't it?

Just imagine how wonderful it will feel when
you get up here
picture all these lovlies in their underwear
feel cold and alone
with nothing but your words
and a microphone
Then drop the god damned heat on us.

Imagine a chorus of FUCK
and Mmmm and snaps

THAT'S really why you swiped right today, isn't it Port Veritas?

Excellent! Let's get you started!

As you heard, we've put together a Special Package, with this Valentines open mic. A LOVE SLAM.
And an extra free second date when you try this First One for just your body.
Plus, since you're one of the first 100 people I find attractive,
I'm gonna throw in a Third date. so you get three, for the price of one!
And remember that swiping right on a Poetry slam is risk-free because it's backed by our 30-day Text you back guarentee.
So put your name on the sign up sheet.
next to your $3- $5 dollar suggested donation
bus your tables at the end of the night,
Tip your bartender Leah well for putting up with us every week.
use whatever bathroom you fucking want

and one last order of business
to wrap things up
like a good boy practicing
safe sex, who is totally not trying
To get you all pregnant.
when he asks how you like
Your eggs in the morning.


If someone gets up here and says
something during their four minutes
That makes you feel unsafe
you can do one of three things
1. Silently get up, leave the room and come back when you're comfortable
2. Get Nate or myself and tell us to provide floor for a calm discussion.
3. Go home write a fucking poem about it. and bring it back here next week!



You sexual, exotic,
Beautiful creature.
I could not be more intrigued by you.

I drove, 46 miles,
to be screamed at for being late.

When I rolled in with a leather jacket
my lit cigarette,
you asumed I was this rebel.

adventurous creature.

Dropped onto this earth
for your entertainment

That's exactlly what I am.
46 miles away from my home town.

My foam swords,
magic the gathering cards,
Dungeon and dragons playing self
packaged tightly in the lockbox
at my bedroom door.

Today, I am a persona poem.

My smolder is a gas mask.
you are the poison gas.

It was invented for survival
in the trenches with you.

I hold myself like a commander
shouting orders at my mind:

“Stop calling her beautiful, you maggot!
She wants you to take charge.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

...So uh...
What do you wanna do today?

“What do you think you're doing?
Don't give her options, Maggot!
Tell her where you're going!”

“Sir, yes, sir”

We're getting coffee.
her favorite coffee house

She gets a nutella mocha.
I get a 16oz almond milk maple syrup latte

She calls me a hipster,
I laugh, I don't disagree.
I give her the radio,

“What do you think you're doing maggot!?”

“trust me,
we need to find out what music she likes."

Show tunes.
Light bulb.
Rapport jackpot.

you ever heard of Rocky Horror?
Doctor Horribles Sing Along Blog?
Little Shop of Horrors?
Repo, The Genetic Opera?
Hedwig and The Angry Inch?

“What do you think you're doing maggot?
Don't fall in love with this girl."

“Sir, maybe, sir”

We walk the beach,
Singing showtunes
we know all the words.

“You're actually the first person
I've seen in real life from tinder...
I hear all these stories
couples meeting online
Getting murdered
I was half expecting you to kill me.”

“Well we didn't get to the end of the beach yet"

.... wait... is she serious?

"My boyfriends waiting
at the rocks down there
when we Start to fuck
he's gonna jump out
slit your throat.
The redness of your blood
spilling on the rocks
is going to make me so,

"... I

She texts her boyfriend
asks to kiss me.

C'mon Babe.
Really, Babe.

I drive to portland in the rain
We park in the parking garage
There was free on street parking
but I don't
Parking Signs...

“Good job, maggot.”
“Sir, yes, sir”

I drive the 46 miles back to kennebunk to drop her off.

She keeps my favorite shirt
because it smells like me.

when I get home.
I find her panties in my backseat.

“You forgot something, Maureen"
when do we Tango again?

"When you pay my Rent,
You smug bastard."

I convinced a man he could prune his own cock.

That if he spliced it just so,
two little pink shafts would sprout in it's place.
Wriggle themselves growing into two separate fully functional phallus.
And I watched him.
As he reluctantly reached for the shears.
And went through the five stages of grieving.

"There's no way this will work.

Fuck you for telling me this secret!

can't I just take a pill to grow a second cock without having to cut this one off?

I don't think I can live without it..."

but just think, I reminded him.
after you do this.
You're gonna have TWO DICKS.



And with almost no other thought, reasoning or belief.

He closed the shears

He opened his eyes.

His flaccid privilege laying there.

"When does the growing start?"
He asked me, pained.
His big brown eyes swelling.

"It doesn't."


"I lied to you, it doesn't grow back."

"It doesn't grow back? Not even one?

"Not one, not two,
no dick for you. I lied."



it was easy,
to convince him.
Just had to promise he'd have two times the power in the long run.
If he risked it all right now.

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