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 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Wendy
When I wake on the steps of humanity,
I see the peril, the plotting, the running and the hasty implementation of torture.
For your children, we shall give them a crate and bowl and force them to live amongst their own feces to mold them into the industrious working class we so desire,
anything looking like upward mobility from the ditches we cry in.
For your animals,
we shall embalm them richly on your wall for you,
to gaze on with fond memory the corpse of an animal you never knew wholly,
merely the discipline you enacted on it to conform to your standard.
Never knowing the child without the work,
unable as a society to accept the being as what it is beyond all the standards and labels and cross-references of psychological history used to define your character and your place in this plane of existence.
At no time capable of committing to validating the true nature of the beast in every single conscious being on Pangea,
because, listen, listen closely,
in this jazzy age of deep beats and lack of swooning amounts of emotion,
you need validation to exist.
Confirm, tune in, download your inner interface to the great program,
and you shall forever be condemned to role of worker, or corporate  building block, you lucky duck.
Feed the system as it so graciously has fed you access to knowledge,
filtered and just the right temperature for complacency bred by millenial laziness and hopelessness.
Or drop out, and matter to none.
What is it going to be?
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
emma louise
She wants to fall in love,
but not with someone, no.
She wraps her arms around her body,
buries her face in her sleeves.
She smells like citrus;
she used too much soap.

She wants to love her throat
and her thighs
and her knees
and her mouth.

She gasps and sighs and screams sometimes
and spit oozes from between her lips.
She tried to ***** into the bushes
but as soon as she felt her stomach heave,
she gave up.

She wants to love her toes
and her collarbones
and her elbows
and her wrists.

A history book made her cry today,
and so did chocolate chip cookies.
She sweat and sweat
and scraped her hands
and her shower water was too cold.

She wants to love her calves
and her nose
and her spine
and her hips.

She hates the feeling of gagging
and she's afraid of pain
but not blood.
Her hair is all damp
and she chews on her cheeks.

She wants to love her voice
and her ribs
and her teeth
and her palms.

She likes a boy she shouldn't
and she wants to write poems on his skin,
but she has a math test on Wednesday
and that will hurt worse.

She wants to love her cheekbones
and her shoulders
and her jaw
and her stomach.

She really wants to love herself,
she really, really does.
I just don't think that she tries
very hard.
I can’t keep crying
over the people I used
to be, and wishing

I could be dying
because of that feeling of
what was you and me.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Frecky Rosa
Her body spoke of him.
His mind spoke of her.

Their hearts didn't speak to each other.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Kathy Nguyen
Black fine tip sharpie glides in perfect curve lines
Letting out a pungent smell
The ink stains my healing skin on my left wrist
as my right hand guides the weapon as if it were a razor
It used to be a razor
Dedicated to K.L.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Allison
Pretty sure
I drank too much
At your funeral.
Snowflakes were
Falling softly
On your coffin.

Watched them
Etch your death
In roman numeral.
I etch them
Into my thighs
Too often.

With my
Whiskey breath
I learn to soften.
I sink with you.
6 feet deep,
Yet unforgotten.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Spooky Babe
It was nice
Very nice and intriguing
To see how our bodies work
to listen to your breathing

And your steady heartbeat
That mine sometimes became insynch
I tried to clear my mind
I attempted not to think

At that moment i was yours
I surrendered to your spell
I hope my smile proved it
I hope that you could tell

That I wanted you so badly
My heart beats were vast
My palms started to perspire
I just wanted it to last
April 21 2014 11:46pm
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