Crack in the ceiling
Expensive repair.

Crack in the glass    
Duct tape

Crack of a switch
Stripe the *****

Crack of a gun
Someone's done

Crack the vein
Relieve pain

Crack of lightning
Frightening

Crack the whip
Obey

Crack my skull
My mind mulls

Crack the mirror
Old wives’ tales dither

Crack the door
It's  her …

Crack of her ***
Beautiful tail
Ends this tight little piece

CRACK

CRACK, swish CRACK

Fingers dig into the wood she is shackled to
Screams of agony are swallowed refusing to let them hear

Hearing the thump of the leather as it hits the ground
Eyes tightly closed as her muscles draw taut
Her mind can see the large man pulling his arm back
Throwing forth the long strand of leather towards her back

CRACK
SnapCRACK
CRACK

Knees buckle as the searing pain rips through her flesh
Feels the trickle down the flesh
Can only imagine what it looks like
Still refusing to scream
Tasting the blood in her mouth from biting her tongue and lip

The men laugh at the stubborn redhead who dare tell them what she thought of how they treated women
It wasn't hard to corner the ***** and tie her to the post

Knowing she should have kept her mouth shut but having been raised to take up for those mistreated she just could not hush and now look at her

CRACK       CRACK      CRACK

Oh please make them stop as her teeth bit back the screams on her knees now, darkness edging at the corners of her brain it won't be long now

The other girls were begging her to scream to give in as they saw the rivlets of flesh being removed from her back with each crack of the whip

Malcolm was very skilled with the whip, He could slice an apple with one if he wanted but right now all he wanted was to inflict agony on this mouthy *****

CRACK

CRACK

CRACK

Finally blessed darkness overcame her as she fell limp on the post, hanging from her arms the blood was pouring out of the gashes of split skin

ENOUGH*
Finally someone with some sense intervened, Jordan the leader of this group was not happy at all seeing the condition of the girl

Cut her down at once and get her seen by a doctor

The girls ran to help remove the shackles from the strange girl's hands, she was limp like a rag doll, she felt dead

She was not dead but wished she were, perhaps that is why she pushed the man beyond his limit, she had a death wish, who knows he just may have granted it without realizing

Taken to the doctor and laid upon the table on her stomach unaware of what was happening blissful darkness

Suddenly a pain so hot it was worse than the whip that had mangled the flesh

Screaming awake tears fall over high cheeks, finally what Malcolm had wanted bursts free from her lips

The doctor continues washing out the rivers of cuts

She continues to cry not understanding how someone could do this to another person

The doctor places a salve in all the rivers of missing flesh knowing the scars here will be the worst

Jordan comes in to see the spunky girl and sees her back, shaking His head His hand reaches down and flips through her gorgeous head of hair He is still puzzled by her behavior

He watches as she drinks down the medication and collapses back to the table, she is well cared for until the doctor releases her

Called before Jordan, He asks why she became so beligerant

I came to get my friend away from you freaks
She used be just as mouthy as me until the one called Malcolm brainwashed her

Jordan just nodded His head not saying much but He did say one thing

"You really should not call us freaks because you do not understand what we are all about.  I assure you, your friend is not being held against her will nor has she been brainwashed"

My friend would not ever kneel at a man's feet and take every word he uttered as the truth.  She knows better than to be treated thus

"Never judge what you have not experienced. I wish You had come to me first before this unfortunate incident occurred.  I invite you to stay and be my guest and observe what really goes on."

She stayed and observed and spent some time with these girls that in her head were just plain loony*

In the end she found a peacefulness she could never explain to another
Something so profound and beautiful that after awhile she became one of the girls that she once called crazy

As the saying goes "Never judge a book by it's cover, read the inside first."

There's a crack in the floor
Whether from old age or misuse
There's a crack in the floor.

There's scuff marks where chairs have been pulled across the room
There's scratches where kitchen utensils fell
There's dirt, whether carried in from outside or a prolonged build-up of a weary mind.

There's a crack in the floor
It's in the middle of the kitchen
A novilon road map to the life of a lonely woman
Did the crack grow larger as she grew stagnant?
Did she notice the ever creeping gorge,
or the rust covered table legs?
Did she feel trapped by her own rusted legs or was she so far down the hole that she'd forgotten how to use them?

There's a crack in my floor
Not visible, not tangible
Just there...looming
There's scuff marks and scratches
There's dirt and rust
There is need for a new floor.

But how? with my feet planted firmly
Not sure whats beneath out-dated self abused easily trusting floor
It's so damaged. No one could love this floor.
But I do. i I do? Familiar and comfortable, is that love?
It's also unforgiving, not compassionate with mistakes..
That's not what I want.

If I rip it up, how long to get a new floor?
How long will it take to remove the deep settled in scars of the old?
Did it make impressions in the foundation?
If I break it out, where will it end?
I just see darkness, scared of the mysteriousness that's within the soil
What if through all this, the crack is still there?

There's a crack in the floor
Whether from old age or misuse
There's a crack in everyone's floor
some just larger than others.

If video games were like crack, I would've been dead long ago.
If video games were like crack, I would be buried six feet below.
If video games were like crack, I would've overdosed and wouldn't be alive.
If video games were like crack, I wouldn't have been able to survive.
If video games were like crack, somebody would've had to call my next of kin.
If video games were like crack, I wouldn't have played video games ever again.
If video games were like crack, I would've been like a man who can't swim, I would've drowned.
If video games were like crack, my ex-wife would be happy because I'd no longer be around.

I love the arch that's in your toes
That tension in your metatarsals
Makes me want to jump your bones
Before we even make it home

After dancing in the dirt
Spending hours kicking dust clouds
You’ve got your shoes off in the van
You’re either filthy or you’re tan
I want to crack your little toes

I want to
crack crack crack crack gasp
In the back of the van
With Hannah Hammertoes
I want to give her release
I think I’ll start with her feet
I don't want there to be tension anymore

Your skin is melting onto mine
We're making puddles on the bench seat
You could have shifted to the side
Instead of pressing up against me

You look ahead and then behind
Not much to see but other cars now
I know there’s other people here
But will they really think it’s weird
If they can see me crack your toes?

I want to
crack crack crack crack gasp
In the back of the van
With Hannah Hammertoes
I want to give her release
I think I’ll start with her feet
I don't want there to be tension anymore

Coffee, and cigarettes
       i think im gonna crack
sweet words oh such lies
       i think im gonna crack
you walk around with you head held high
       i think im gonna crack
you cheat and lie, you beg
       i think im gonna crack
you love me, you love me not
       what do you want?
           i think im gonna crack
im lonely i need you
         i think im gonna crack
tabs and trips
        i think im gonna crack
Coffee, and cigarettes
     ****
       love me, i love you
           i think im gonna crack
lines, snorts
    i need more
       i think im gonna crack
you leave me,
    you love her

            cracked.

In the realm of my chamber, where the walls stand tall and proud, a crack resides, a testament to the passage of time. Each morn I awaken to its presence, my gaze instinctively drawn to its jagged lines, as if it holds a secret waiting to be unraveled. Curiosity blooms in my chest, like an ephemeral flower, its petals seeking to understand the start and end of this enigmatic fracture. Yet, despite my relentless pondering, its origin remains shrouded in ambiguity, evading the grasp of my eager mind.

Venturing beyond the boundaries of my chamber, I traverse the intricate labyrinth of rooms that exist in this grand tapestry of my abode. And lo and behold, that very crack that has captivated my attention seems to follow me, lurking in the hidden corners and unassuming intersections. Its presence, though subtle, is undeniable, an unspoken confidant whispering ancient stories and untold secrets. Returning to the sanctuary of my own haven, I find the crack more defined than ever, etched into the walls like a mark of permanence. Unyielding, unchanging, it stands as a constant reminder of its presence within the depths of my consciousness.

Oh, how I've longed to mend it, to bridge the gaping divide and restore harmony to the once-seamless surface. I've tirelessly searched for the perfect mortar and the right tools, but alas, it persists, taunting me like a mischievous specter, forever out of reach. This crack, with its resilient nature, seems to possess a life of its own, defying all attempts at erasure. It has become a fixture of my sight, a permanent resident in my waking hours and a steadfast companion throughout the moments between dusk and dawn.

But, dear listener, let me share with you a truth that lies dormant within the depths of my soul, hidden beneath the dusty layers of reality. This crack, you see, is not what it appears to be. It exists not in the physical walls that surround me, but within the intangible realm of dreams. It is a fracture of thoughts, a crevice in my mind that transcends the confines of the tangible world. This crack, oh, how much it speaks of the human experience, the complexities and contradictions that shape our very essence. It is the crack that embodies the intangibility of our emotions, the fractures that define our individual journeys.

So, as I gaze upon this crack, ever-present and unwavering, I find solace in its inexplicable existence.

Cracks in cover let
Sun in hits like
Bullets

Unwrapped window
Gives solar epiphany
To cocooned child

Flee fluorescent,
Flee faux verve
Doorframe: portal
Extra-terrestrial
World through eaves
Like bug zappers
See-through walls
Most envious glass
****** passage

Cold shoulder, concrete, masonry
Phosphenes gleaming, staggering
Hotfoot, addled eyes
Inverted wavelengths
Gravel clinging, unwise
Scrutinized steps to grass
Great big sigh
Saluting sky
With micro pupils
Torrid shell
Swollen locks
Rejoice

Westside: Central Avenue
Pack up, load up
Truckpower to State Street
Beer, veggie dogs
Corn-on-cob
Bag-of-fruit
Checkout scandal

Three-in-the-front
State to thirty-three
Thirty-three to thirteen
Chauncey, Jacksonville,
Trimble, Glouster,
Bonnie’s Home Cooking
Opposite British Petroleum
Exhausted loan office
Opposite Coal Miner Emeritus

Burr Oak: closed
Margin parking
Bathroom clothes
Tasteful vest
Bathroom tissue to brim
Feet welcome
Pass up close up camp spots
I feel a pull to the valley
Clearing: stop, rest
Crack, chug, more wood
Fire, crack, chug, more wood
Chat, crack, chug

Copper detuned chime
Of that ephemeral vibrato
Drone of nine-volt synth
Into kaput tape deck
& we sing & chant & cackle

Campfire chatter:
Bitter pill
Naïve philosophy
Crack, chug
Empathy
More wood

“So when I was seventeen still going to church there were these events they were called “lock-ins” we stayed the night at the church they took our cells our watches took down every clock & covered the windows so we wouldn’t be aware of anything only God & so there would be lectures & guest speakers & bible readings and discussions & also these ******* bizarre activities like they would turn off all the lights light a **** ton of candles & they would blindfold us and give us a little piece of paper and a little pencil and they’d tell us in a omniscient little voice to write down one sin we’ve committed on the little piece of paper fold it & nail it (still blindfolded) to this huge wooden cross with this little hammer & I guarantee every one of us wrote down *******.  

Now that I think of it the whole thing was about ******* every speaker had some story of how they used to ******* all the time and how they were released of the devils hold and that ******* is a sin and will send you to hell and all of us kids were boys and every single adult was a woman they all looked at us like they read our paper like we were sinners like we would always be sinners just slimy ******* who would always ******* (like we would ever understand what it felt to be a woman or what a woman felt like) & their eyes were gleaming with such shallow sympathy that you knew they were true god fearing Christians”

(All at once)
Stab, chug, crack, chug
Stab, chug, crack, chug
Stab, chug, crack, chug

Bliss

Quitting crack

       Is really ******
tough.

     But the **** aint impossible.
All you gotta do is **** it up,
lock yourself in a room,

     and sweat the **** out.
Takes a while sometimes,
but eventually you reach

the crack threshold.

    Thats
            when
                    you
no longer need the crack
to ****** survive.

       The feel of the crack entering
your system
       is one of the single greatest
feelins on earth.

     Which is why its so hard to quit.

But the feelin
         of reachin that threshold,
and finally bein free of the
soulsuckin ****...

Now that is THE single greatest feelin in the world.

In other words, if you never try crack
      then you
never get a chance to feel how good it is
to go without the stuff.
But then again, you miss out on the
****** up withdrawal period too :)