#roadkill
Pour couple drops
of apple cider vinegar,
onto the juicy
and plumpy
fresh meat.
Apple cider,
balsamic.
Anything
that could
wash away
—the taste.
🥩
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 11:40 AM UTC
I feel like i spend all my time
trying to paint burning houses
always throwing myself into
these hopeless causes
Driving myself up crumbling walls
and wasting all my paint
Now my world only spins
in shades of monochromatic
my colorless eyes
looking oh so dramatic
what i wouldnt give for a
heart attack or severe fever
just so i could feel something
Ive got a reckless tounge
and a destination addiction
speaking words i wish i felt
in all these different positions
just waiting for the flash flood
to carry me somewhere new
But everywhere i go
its just the same old ****
the sun stares me down, i run
happiness is not worth it
so ill lock myself inside
this half a home
untill my sane abandons me
then
maybe
I
Can
Sleep.
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 1:58 PM UTC
Relax,
and breathe in the sour mange,
tread marks etched into asphalt.
what can it be?
what was it before?
only the smell of tomorrow.
I guess---
we'll never know now
why it tried to cross the street.
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
the disease turned the sky gray
and our forests into highways
stained the passing cars with blood
with those who continued along old paths
while the rest of us hid anticipating the hunter
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
#*The level of internal honesty
within each of us
hinges solely
around the exact nature
of the alliances we have made*
#
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 1:09 PM UTC
O' poor frog
flatten, grotesque and dried
with a bit of bone glisten white
You remind me of
Me.
I too have jumped in front of a speeding car.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Found the meat on the road, tenderized by the Michelin man
it's not all that much to behold, but hey, we do all that we can
Thinking it would go well, with a nice California Cabernet
the taste pretty swell, with fresh garlic, harvested today
Some field onion, with cracked pepper, and of course organic sage
sauteed in butter with new grunion, I've heard, it's all the rage
Placed upon bone china, white flowered table cloth, the stage
set there for the diner, to peruse, and ultimately assuage
Hiding in the kitchen, after taking out remains
unaware they are observed, as my laughter is restrained
Serving up the best, road-kill hors-d-oeuvre and mystery al-a-mien
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Two screaming cats
Claw their way
Up the high road,
Wild eyes flashing
WHITE AND RED
WHITE and RED
white and Red
white and red
whitenred
whitenred
red
red
red....
Glad I am home,
I sigh a prayer
In wondering
What roadkill
Waits to feed
Incessant screamers
Southward streaming terror.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
I mourn for skunks.
The squashed, flattened masses
***** mashed, their stripes scattered
Matted masks disguising unseeing eyes
Through how many fields have they run?
Once sweet babies, small noses, downlike fur
fleeing to their final place from green leafed bowers in a terrible act of asphalt bait n' switch
Let us all grieve the sacrifice which,
Unto the motor gods
Has been served.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
Standing at a fork in the road
Which way should I go
To the right
Keep putting up this terrible fight
Straight ahead
All the time wishing I was dead
Or to the left
So mournfully bereft
I see only darkness either way I chose
There doesn't really seem much to lose
Maybe I'll just lay down here
Like in the headlights a deer
Oh I forgot I was already hit
That is why here I sit
Already road **** just waiting to die
Under the darkening sky
Guess I could limp off, but at what cost
I'm one of the lost
With no way home
Through this life alone I roam
Humans are not ment to live that way
It makes for the most sorrowful day
So here I stand at the fork again
I've been here before, and I know everyway is grim
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
A country lane, which eats animals, earrings and experiences,
winds in spools around the oat-house and follows the broken wall.
My sister’s bottle green jeep made waves along the hedges,
she shook out her hairband and the conversations of the evening.
An owl asks on all sides, and would seem to answer himself as
the field barracuda, the vast wide eye for the minnow-mouse.
She put a pearl in the bushes, dangling spit-like,
an orb, a moon-berry, full and dead forever.
She drove faster, as the english night slowed down,
down by the where the willow covers the road sign.
She killed a badger,
as if they had both lost something here.
Sun-cooked,
crisp at the curling edges
he’s a dark patch, like a fixed pothole.
his bones tested her michelins in the morning
again, glassy eyed, stillened,
retroflective and blind to the shimmering shadow of flies
rising up through his skin like a spirit.
But both her ears are full.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
4am On the drunken floor of my Wingmans apartment I place my red solo tankard down to instigate a quest.
"ROADKILL!"
That's what we call my wingman.
"Roadkill! Lets go on an adventure to king richards faire tomorrow!"
"Sure! When do we leave?"
"Don't worry, I'll wake you up."
See. When your best friend says they need you,
you don't just call them.
You drive.
Tonight,
on the anniversary of Roadkills worst tragedies,
we are getting drunk.
In the morning,
We're going to prove that life is worth living.
7:30am our alarms go off.
"Uhhhg."
"Curse you phone."
Hands slap towards the noise,
Spilling last nights wounded soldiers.
"Roadkill your shirts inside out."
"Thanks man."
Actually, while you have it off.
Black doesn't go with brown.
Pick a whole different shirt."
"It's fine."
************ There's a blue shirt right here."
Belting sailor shantees
Roadkill and I adventure three hours in
My four wheeled ground Zepplin.
"A curse to you lads,
a curse on your head,
Drinking pint after pint
until I am dead
I just keep drinking
and I don't know why,
But tonight is the night
that I drink 'til I die!"
Upon arriving at the faire we spot an ocean of goregeous maidens.
The ticket booth doth not take credit cards, however.
So we needed to speak to the gatekeeper.
"Excuse me, where's the atm?" I Ask.
"it's right over there, Handsome.
I'll need your id's first, though.
Don't worry, I don't bite
... hard."
Roadkills eyes grow the size of stormwind.
"I need to bring you everywhere man.
You make everyone love us."
we return with cash in hand
The gatekeeper pulls our ID's from her corset
looks them over before handing them back.
"How are you boys younger than me?"
"It's the beard. "
I wink.
"Keep a secret?"
Swords on hips
songs in chest.
Mead was flowing
Boots were clomping
Roadkill paused to look around
Standing like a pleased statue.
I bounced excitedlly around like a child.
ROADKILL
LOOK AT ALL OF THESE GOREGEOUS OUTFITS ON THESE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!
"Hey!"
handsome men, too.
"Thank you"
It's like we teleported to Flurb heaven!
Look!
a garb shop!
Oh my god
A boot store!
They have a whole store
for leather larpy boots!
There is a tail shop!
I could buy and wear a fuzzy furry tail!
This is amazing!
There is a giant duck
Being pushed back and forth by two huge jacked dudes.
"I need to hug everyone!"
I am in love with everything!"
"Can i please hug you?"
"I swear to god, Nick if you touch me."
We try the knife throwing challenge.
The crossbow challenge.
The dart throwing challenge.
We **** at all of it but we have a blast.
We walk into a leather shop.
A small redheaded girl dances around us. She puts fur around our necks
Her hands trace our chests as she ties them up
You boys look like the type to rock these.
She drags us by the belts to a mirror.
Look at how handsome you both are.
"Roadkill" I whisper.
He is already lost in her eyes.
I place a hand below his chin and close his mouth.
They talk about where they're from.
Their families.
What they do for fun.
"Oh you do larp? We do dagohir it's like full contact grappley shield kicking larp"
A group of customers walk in and she leaves to tend to them.
A brunette helps take off roadkills stole.
"How much are these anyway?"
Roadkill asks the brunette.
"$600" she answers.
"I feel ashamed for even trying it on"
Says roadkill slipping off the precious treasure.
"Goodbye ladies! have fun today!"
I say, pulling roadkill by the arm.
"Oh... okay then... bye."
"They seemed sad we left.
What was that about?" Asked roadkill.
"Well do you want the blunt educated version or the ignorant positive version?"
"Ignorant of coarse."
Then they're dissapointed because they were interested in us.
"Out of curiousity, what's the blunt educated version?"
"They're upset We didn't fall for their act and buy their expensive wares."
"Whelp... there goes my self confidence. Ignorance really is bliss"
"Yes it is roadkill. Yes it is."
We Travel back home.
Again, singing sailor shantees.
"A curse to you lads,
a curse on your head,
Drinking pint after pint
until I am dead
I just keep drinking
and I don't know why,
But tonight is the night
that I drink 'til I die!"
Park the four wheeled ground zeppelin in front of the Apartment.
Clonk our boots up the stairs
Grab angry orchards out of the fridge
Slunk into the beaten brown couch
raise my bottle into the air
"To living one more day exactly the way we want too, Roadkill."
Roadkill raises his bottle.
clinks it against mine.
"To living."
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
I feel like i spend all my time
trying to paint burning houses
always throwing myself into
these hopeless causes
Driving myself up crumbling walls
and wasting all my paint
Now my world only spins
in shades of monochromatic
my colorless eyes
looking oh so dramatic
what i wouldnt give for a
heart attack or severe fever
just so i could feel something
Ive got a reckless tounge
and a destination addiction
speaking words i wish i felt
in all these different positions
just waiting for the flash flood
to carry me somewhere new
But everywhere i go
its just the same old ****
the sun stares me down, i run
happiness is not worth it
so ill lock myself inside
this half a home
untill my sane abandons me
then
maybe
I
Can
Sleep.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
Your lying there, dead.
Corpse slowly rotting,
flies hover around
your mutilated flesh.
Sorry but
your life, your existence
wasn't as important
as someone getting to work on time.
Ironically
it's now that your dead
lying there
that we take the time to swerve
and not hit you.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC