A Poem a Day Keeps the Zoloft Away

So True

(Source: meme-meme, via single-silverbullet)

I need this for reasons

(Source: 8bar-bikes)

young boy, young man

Got a head full of

bad thoughts

and a pocket full of

quarters

gonna make this claw

machine my bitch

while she looks so pristine

among her peers

in a cage

but I got the metal incisors

to change some poor

animals world

then take her home

and have my way

with the plush and the fur

and my desire drives

me to it every time.

Queen for a Season

She was tall, that was one thing you could say about Olivia.

The girl wore stockings year round.

Stockings with laced up leather boots clutching thin,

supple ankles.

Stockings which traversed muscular legs,

traversed desire,

hugged eye candy.

 In Summer it was stockings and sundresses,

in Fall it was stockings and rompers,

in Winter is was stockings and ankle length dresses

and in Spring it was stockings with big shirts

which sometimes slipped up a little too far

to reveal two firm cheeks held in tight nylon.

She was the Queen of men for a season.

But the flame blew too bright and

snuffed out for being brought too much sustenance at one time.

            Olivia didn’t know it, even though everyone else did.

            She retained the ego of the very young.

The poor dears who are just old enough

to have formed egos

and think them things that contain power

by merely existing in one person’s mind.

Waiting on the Sun

Cut the tethers

slicing through

the leather

tongues

to let the flesh tongue fly,

it’s 5 in the am

and your dumb ass

peddled to the top

of a bridge with

symphonies of

pop slithering

through thin

white, ear-budded

snakes

so you wouldn’t

have to listen

to how quiet your

life is.

The Man Card. Yeah I’ve got five down.

How the World Became to End

So the first man came to be, because nothing was. He eventually saw the first woman and desire bread a child to be born.

But before that…

The man was entertained by this “woman” for a while and noticed a particular phenomenon. Everyday he would desire to lay with the woman, every day he would because she had nothing else to distract her interests (she could also be easily overpowered by him and was afraid of having her existence taken away… she was still enthralled by existing’s novelty). But as soon as he rutted her dry, he would loose interest. He would not ever be able to recall why he had exerted so much effort for something so fleeting, but, nonetheless, once a day a sudden impulse would come over him to ravage the first and only woman he had ever seen. Then one day she said something that would forever change the way the first man on earth would look at the first woman on earth.

She said:

“I came.”

This struck the first man as odd for a few reasons. The simplest being that he had been doing only what he thought was natural and routine in the way of lovemaking—such as he did everyday, but today she came?

Which leads to the second important thought hatching in the first man to ever experience existence’s brain: What does “I came” mean?

Of course the thoughts extrapolated upon themselves striving for a definitive definition, delving through socio-economical and political ramifications, for a woman (the first woman) came-ing.

In the infinite possible consequences that the first man thought of, one factual thing occurred, somehow the woman acted different. She seemed to smile more.

The next day came as well as the desire. The thing, which separated this specific day from all the previous ones, was the peculiar feeling the man experienced. He was thrusting into the woman and an anticipation for her ejaculation stayed with him. With every rhythmic blow of genitalia, came the experience of those magical words to come out of the woman’s mouth.

But they didn’t and before he knew it a sweat broke out on his skin, the copulation had never lasted long enough to bring such a taxing physical effort and the man experienced frustration and erectile dysfunction for the first time at the same time.

He rolled off the woman, his ego being flooded by a slue of emotions that he did not know existed prior to what he would always remember as his first failure.

While the first man to trespass time/space was dealing with a stark counterpoint to existing, which is realizing one’s inability to exist harmoniously with the universe on a continuous timeline, the first woman who walked the planet was feeling self-conscience for the first time in her existence. She did not want to feel responsible for the man’s lack of interest, it was his own fault for not completing the daily ritual.

But no matter how she reasoned it, her expectations of being able to feel the absolute bliss she did the day before were far from being met. The utter disappointment festered into reason she failed to please man enough to please her.

The girl grabbed the beer

instead of a breath,

the boy grabbed the blood matted hair on the nape

of the other boy’s neck

instead of a breath,

we who claim to be so damn special

are the self-destructors of the universe.

Man will outlive the cockroach.

Words as stones

One year of words,

one year of measuring words by days,

365 days of organized words plus an

extra day of organized words because it is a leap year,

so 366 days of organizing thoughts

through cuneiform and uniformed intended importance,

imported through my emotions and exported by pen and tongue,

366 days of my soul yelling,

my soul is hoarse,

the need to force the words doesn’t stop but becomes

second nature

like Sisyphus must have eventually felt about

that damn stone.

At some point he would have named it

and it became his family or his view or his meaning or

Sisyphus became the stone and looked back at an empty shell

pushing for empty purposes

but doing it because that’s the only thing to do.

#367