If I could
Devour every ounce
Of your pain
And discomfort
And trauma,
Then burp it into the aether
And out of existence,
I would do it
In a wing beat.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
If I could
Devour every ounce
Of your pain
And discomfort
And trauma,
Then burp it into the aether
And out of existence,
I would do it
In a wing beat.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
On all of the wobbly tables
Near open windows on gusty windswept days
And on surfaces dangerously close
To the errant paws of asshole cats
Sit delicate vases of bone china
Ready to crack, craze, shatter and split
Wide open
At fucking whispers.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** There is so much fragility in humanity right now… and it isn’t exclusive. ***
I am
At present
The very definition
Of the word hibernation.
Like there is no difference
Between the word itself
And what it means.
If you search between the letters
You’ll find me curled into a winter sleep
And drooling on the negative space.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Still waiting for the sun to return… But it’s on its way… so I’ve heard…. ***
The only words
I have left to say
Cannot be said
In words.
~~~
β€π½
Sometimes
I sit on a little easily-ignored perch
And someone will catch my eye
For one reason or another
And I will watch them
At length
Like a secret voyeur
And watch and watch and watch
With rapt attention and unquenchable curiosity
Sometimes unblinking
Until they either
Vanish from my sight
Or notice.
I am a tame voyeur, and a huntress without any particular bloodlust.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Basically a creeper, eh, Blue Eyes?…. ***
*** Sure. Me and everyone else. But at least I admit it. I lurk in all the brightly lit corners. ***
Self-murderous mukbang madness
Gulping gluttony through a green-energy-made paper straw
And gleefully (sorrowfully) gorging on delectably delicious death on a styrofoam plate
After plate
After plate
After plate
All free
All day
Livestreamed on YouTube
For your viewing pleasure
And their profit
Mmmm mmmm good
We’re so loving it (duhduh-duh-duhduh)
Why read a book about running horses to the bone,
When you can watch it
For a fraction of the braincells.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Now THAT is how to profit off of a slow-mo suicide! Way to go, YouTube! ***
*** Some of you know that I get… uh… mouthy… at certain points in my cycle. I have a platoon of furious little gremlins stampeding through my bloodstream right now. Sorry. ***
Flakebook
Fuckbook
Fakebook
Facefuck
Fakefuck
Fuckface
Fakeface
Flakefuck
Fuckflake
Fluckfake
Fuckingflakeyfakefacefucker
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck
Fuckme
I can’t
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Oh look! Another lazy non-poem! Keep it up, Sugar Tits! π ***
*** PΓ³g mo thΓ³in, Old Man. I have some rage at the moment…. Indulge me for a sec, wontcha? ***
I hear the silencing
Taking place
All around me
In all corners of life —
Real and virtual;
No one can hide from it —
No, not even YOU.
There is
A taking down of voice(s),
A collective replacing/erasing/enshrouding
Of thought
Of word
Of criticism and critical thinking
Of difference and deviation
Of discussion and disagreement.
A figurative burning
Of books and ideas
Of nuance
Of freedom of expression and speech.
Newspeak is our new language, people!
Fucking SPEAK IT (do it, you little bitches)
Or face the hunters at your door steps;
They’re waiting with their pitchforks and fires and their salivating chops.
So
Let’s all say it together
Because it is a part of everyone’s brand new compelled lexicon now:
BAAAAAAAH!
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Fuck the world right now… seriously. ***
*** And fuck the Thought Police too. Yeah. I said it! ***
I can hide
All of my little secret smiles
In public now,
And I don’t have to explain to a soul
What curls my lips so.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Masks also keep your face warm, and allow you to converse with yourself without attracting unwanted attention. ***
Inky black gash-like silhouettes
Moving as one
Against the pinkorange sunrise sky;
Hard to ignore
A vision quite like that.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** I love that a group of crows is called “a murder”. ***
He has the kind of laugh
That befits a sweaty and wholly satisfied
Post-coital situation:
Husky
Lustful
And full of private possibilities…
A bedroom laugh.
Parts of me clench and dampen
At the very sinful thought of it.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Eavesdropping again, Sweet Cheeks? Very naughty. ***
*** The ear overhears what the ear wants to overhear. Plus… laughter can be an afrodisiac. Plus… anything can be afrodisiac when you’re about to drop an egg. Fuck. ***
I have found ways to operate
Within the confines
Of the various matrices
Of my life.
I have found ways
To be
Free range.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Ahem…. Like a hen? ***
*** Freedom is relative. ***
I was there
Even though
I wasn’t really there.
But I was there, man.
I took the brown acid
And hallucinated myself
Into being
11 years
Before I was born.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Feeling nostalgic for an experience you never experienced, Angel Eyes? ***
*** I experienced it. Many times… and many more to come. 3D isn’t my only reality, maaaan. ***
I’m watching you
Watching me
But you don’t know
That I’m watching you too…
But I guess you do now.
lol
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Don’t flatter yourself, Sugar Tits. ***
I stood in her secret annex
Many years ago
And I still remember the patina of years past
Stuck to dingey walls and curling yellowed posters.
I climbed a dark narrow staircase
Just to stand in her shoes
And in the tiny rooms she and her family and friends shared
For two years.
Two long lonely years
Of
Depending on high-stakes kindness
And sustained silence to save them
From the devil —
A devil with horns hidden just above his brow
And a gouging flaming tail on full display.
Two fear-soaked years
Of
Never standing in the sun
And never kissing under the moon and stars
With toes toeing the grass,
Toes that feel their freedom in the cool dew.
She spent two years carving love-borne madnesses and unsinkable hopes
Into stones of eternity
While bloodied dragons hunted her blood,
And the blood of those like her.
If found —
Death would lead their way down that suffocating staircase
Into gallows of flame and silencing fire.
We
Of this era
In this part of the world
Do not know fear
And inconvenience.
We do not know true evil.
We do not know history.
That’s because we are too busy
Building more fires
And burning more books,
Blinding ourselves with the woke light of ignorance.
~~~
π½β€
~~~
*** I have no political affiliations, btw. Not left. Not right. Everyone is fucked as far as I’m concerned. I’m disgusted with society as of late. ***
Martian mineral formed by ancient ice blankets,
“aeolian dust
and acidic atmospheric aerosols”.
“Aolian dust” sounds like glorified dust blown about by wind.
Also,
I am only able to appreciate the alliteration of this sentence from the literary researchers
As I possess but a faint inkling of what any of it means…
However,
I managed to deduce the following:
Jarosite is a mineral,
An off-putting yellowish brown mineral,
Formed by the marriage of dust and ice
Found not only on Mars
But in Antarctica too,
Apparently,
Because
Maybe water
On Mars…
At some point.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Ever fall down a web-browsing rabbit hole? ***
*** I’m sorry but someone has to say it…. Jarosite is an ugly mineral. ***
My eyes
Betray the subtly changing colours
Of the untamed thoughts in my head (in your head)
And your swells right before they crest and crash
Into my stillness,
Into my unfallen shattering.
There is silence and loud in that single colour…
In that unnameable brightdark colour.
Do you have a name for it?
I can think of hundreds.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
*** Edible THC… π€£π€£π€£ ***
Once a month
The moon empties me
Fully.
~~~
β€π½
~~~
Stab me
With a pillow
Smother me
With air
Sink me
Like a buoy
Stir me
Like cement
Sin me
Like a prayer
Fuck me
Like a nun
~~~
π½β€
~~~
*** Weird mood. Wolf moon. Wild spoon. ***
*** … Never mind…. ***
Wolf eyes
Gazing at the wolf moon
With a howl stuck in my throat
And a carnal spell tangled in my fur —
A spell of lust-borne clawing suspended in drops of moon sheen,
And dollops of star-spewed sky
All tangled in my fur,
All tangled in me.
A shiver breaks the stillness of my skin
As I stand on shards of milkwhite crystal,
Grated from the snow-packed heavens,
Gazing at the wolf moon
With a howl stuck in my throat.
~~~
π½β€
~~~
*** What… no blood, Angel Eyes? ***
*** There is no shortage of blood. Also… the January full moon is called the “Wolf Moon”! I will be doing some wolf things and some moon things these nights of fullness and feminine energy. ***