I could tell you what I think
But most don't care to listen
I try not to waste my time on people like that
Because why would I?
There are people who will literally **** all of the energy out of you
Treating you like a sponge when you are really a sun
There's no remedy for people like this
And they're everywhere
Hidden predators in a pasture full of succulent prey
Which way did they come from?
We may never know.

I am a bright and burning sun and I radiate positive energy from my core
It extends millions of miles outside of me
I am desirable in that aspect
Fueling the thirst of treacherous thieves who can't survive without me
I am precious in that aspect
And you'd think they'd treat me as so
But greed is greed, a viscious and disgusting monster which only continuously grows stronger
And I cannot save them.

I know what it's like to be brave enough to offer your whole self to the world
Glistening energy and all
Only to have it tarnished and chased after by those whose only desire is to take and to take

I am too much in the same way that I am never enough.

I am always getting taken from.
But I do not cry because I am like this
I am whole and perfect and special no matter how much they try to take from me
For I am constantly filling back up
And burning ever brighter.  

I cry for those who aren't a sun,
But a thunderous black hole.
How they must suffer.
I cry for them because that is the only thing left to do
And at least they won't try to consume these tears of mine too
But yet, I hope to water them as so...
Thinking that maybe, someday, they might bloom into a flower, which eventually transforms into a sun.

But I am a dreamer.
And what's done is done.

By: Evynne Doue

a story is a story
a poem is a poem
a plot is a plot
a thought is a thought.

a letter is a letter
as a word is a word.
a sentence is a sentence
logical or absurd.

a language is a language
a book is a book
a thought is a thought
so let it be known
before our impending rot.

∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰

We paint your breeding world as queer
and every man a closet queen.
Your days like Noah’s now appear…
our King arrives to crown the scene.

Oh Father of progressive souls
whose neo-pagan mercy reigns,
bring union to fragmented wholes
as lovers rattle rainbow-chains.

We’re clubbing with the scribes of ***
(our fairy-dusted lying press)
who pay out cash for background checks
while prying more and praying less.

The starry heavens twinkle gay
and rainbows end in gold, you know).
To see it any other way
would harsh our high and end the show…

Your family paradigm descends
upon the Roman road to hell
where reproductive reason ends
in demographic show-and-tell.

God’s wisdom pleads in vain. What’s life
when mobs are primed for anarchy –
assaulting yet again Lot’s wife
in *****’s dead democracy.

discoveries unfold,
into the folds of
my mind

and I swirled her teeth
and treachery around my mouth
like wine and spat them out

there is nothing left of us but
a quarter bottle of whiskey and
half a pack of tax free cigarettes

we smoke, two at a time,
choking back the cheap chemicals
as if they are our tears

and, my darling, I have cried for you, on stained and ***** sheets that I wrap, like a glove, around my trembling bones

taking the eye of the storm into my mouth, like a ripe plum, yellow flesh that taunts my tongue and I let

all of my other senses dull as I taste a mouthful

of you

New York, July 1992


We will need two passport pictures
one inch by one inch,
black and white
with you looking
exactly forty five degrees to the left;
exactly forty five degrees to the left...
just enough
so we can barely see your right earlobe.
We can't let you into this country without them.

Monotone voice
doesn't really speak
and when it does people start to sleep

monotone voice
doesn't really sing
not even with the strum of a guitar string

Monotone voice
doesn't really talk
because when it does people start to walk

It's not even dark*
But it's horribly dark
Don't you see?
How the walls inch closer
And the shadows jump out at me
How the floor creeks
And the breeze creeps
Through the window past the currents
It's terribly dark
But you can't see...
Your blind to what lurks
What jumps, creeks, and what creeps
The street light shines in
So no.. I guess It's not dark