Patchwork Dreams
by Aaron Kasunic, Amanda Whitlock, Morgann Blackwood, J.M. Romig, Ryan P. Kinney, and Valentine Berlin

The block is killing me
A million thoughts stopped by a lacking syllable
The start
Could it be? Should it be?
I’ll fill the silence with doubt
Waiting for the right sound
While the deadline looms...

These dreamers in my mind have stopped dancing,
Tired of waiting for the music:

Paint splashes grayscale
Patches together in swatches
Blending to erase the boundaries
I never follow anyway
It’s been years since
My guidelines were straight
Enough to stay inside
Yet it’s where
I prefer to be

I’ve been poor, so poor
That harvesting cigarette butts to squeeze the tobacco out
Was the only way to smoke
So poor that i had to carve a pipe out of a carrot
To smoke that tobacco
Yes, I’ve been poor
Poverty is a misery, but I’m crafty
So-so living, those problems
Making do is how I survive
Yes, I’ve been poor
And I carry the scars to prove it

Loop. Swoop. Pull.
Nope.
Loop. Swoop. Pull
Still no.
Mom’s getting fed up
I’m sorry.
I just can’t do it.

I race through the shop door
The natural light stings my wet eyes
And the chill stops me for an instant
My mother screams behind me,
“Get the **** out of here.”
I am sobbing, finding it difficult to breathe
As I choke down mucus and blood
My lip is already starting to swell
Tomorrow, she will try to bribe my forgiveness with some useless object
Another ******* worthless sentiment
From a parent who never stopped being a child

So soggy... everything...
The grass, the hay, the sky
And my crotch- presently soaked in blood.
Two periods in one month!!
YAY for me.
Soggy... everything.

Jesus died
Because I am a sinner
I’m on my knees
For the fifth time this week
Trying to find my salvation
On this bathroom floor
Penetrated by the needle
Full of bubbling holy light

I’m drunk and so ****** out right now
There is no God
If there was
He would have saved me
Or atleast given me a bigger ****

Before the arthritis set in,
I could grab a ****,
They called them “handys” back then,
And I was very accomplished.
My grip was magical
And Old Faithful would quietly make a show.

I’m as dead as America in the Fall
The dead-eyed liberal zombies are coming
To knock down the walls of my panic room
Picketing my rights
If they had half a brain
They’d put down those signs
And pick up a gun

It’s already past 11.
The kids are long since asleep
I quietly stick the key in the lock
And try to open the door without the usual creak
I drop my briefcase in the hall
As though the full weight of 70 hour work weeks were stored within
I loosen my tie and walk to the fireplace
There I spot the kids, dead to the world on the couch
“Waiting for Santa”
He’s finally here!
As I bend to slide another present under the tree

Memory corrupted
Trying to recover
Installing... Installing
Installing the good data. Recover the bright.
Installing... Installing
Deleting viruses. Replace corrupted data.
Installing... Installing
Waiting for completion
In-
Stalling...
Ready to carry on
In
Stalling....