Where do the willows weep, that sacred place where tears are stored? Where does the pang of every heartbeat save a life from utter freefall? The willows know things, and they are so bored with our toils.You know it and ignore it; even now as you process it. But the willows won't weep because you aren't around to hear them. In our absence, they dig deep sturdy roots to bear down the weight of nothing and, yet, everything too.

What a wait to bare.

Gustav Wolfgang
600 S. Graves St.
McKinney 69, Texas


               The Damnation of Non-Invisibility

the damnation of non-invisibility:
this is where even
brilliance
fails-

and all that heart,
and where she came from
that horrible thing-

bends you down
to the highest bidder;
the ***** she said
you weren’t.

boys, i’m here to tell you
it’s a ******* crucible.

getting where you need to go
never getting anywhere
or anything;

but finding resting
***** face,
every single place you go-

be easy,
once your little hands find earth,
there’s no going back;

remember what you mean to carve
into those dank ****** walls
and know;
that the gods that put you here
once were good to us;

and that it is not the act you watch right now
that defines a thing;
most especially,
not you.

The taste of repetition tickles at historical ignorance. The Queen is dead, the Queen, the Queen! Centuries of colonial empiricism brought into the dark corners of the metaverse once again. Heaven is empty. Hell has no vacancy. So why do tyrants swim so well. Why do they sit in their golden, guilted chairs, grinning through their teeth with smug acceptance of their blessings from god? Is the sun still there? Does the ocean still spray waves of destiny? Are the creatures of marginalized society so cruel that they would oppress and condemn as they feel they have been? Was there no lesson? Does man not have its place is history or is the last 100 years enough to **** the need? I hear the mosquitoes buzzing and zooming past my ears. So I gave my blood with reluctant pleasure. This is my new role.