I feel
the impact
of my words
in my wrists and
lower back and
when I take a break
and look at the stars
I hear a screeching
either of dying
or of killing
or of trying desperately
to do a little of both
and I try not to
take it personally
as a sign
or an omen
while I
hear my name
reverberate in
each yell and
hammer blow.
Tag Archives: writing
Devices
I’m Mac,
iPhone,
And nook.
He’s nothing,
Tracfone,
and comic books.
You’re PC,
Android,
And Kindle.
He’s Beaglebone,
Arduino,
and Leonardo.
It may be
best
if we are left
to our
own devices…
Big fan.
Spray some
WD-40
through a fan,
see how quickly
you can learn
the meaning
of regret.
Cuff your
oil spritzed shame
against the wall
and chastise
your
poor
decision making skills
while I laugh
oh so slowly
and sweetly
and call the
kettle a
nice
modern
stainless
steel.
Dick
I feel like
I may be
misremembering
some important line
in the history of
words, words, words,
maybe it was
something about
breaking stones?
In any case,
if you’re gonna
fuck with me,
at least
have the
uncommon
courtesy to
use your dick.
Chance
Give me
a chance,
just one more
chance,
I’ll show you
that I’m
more than sweetness
and
less than sass.
I’ll make no promises
as I wrap you
in my harms and
hold you close.
Temporary insanity
I am
undefinable
in my arts
and
indefatigable
in my starts,
I remember
thinking
that I’d make
a new memory
in the room
with the dolphins
as I twitched
uncontrollably
and they preyed
unabashedly
in an
exorcize
in
futility
when I’d
much rather
be at home
again
working
on an
exercise
in
fertility.
At me
You claim
they are hidden,
small,
and squinty.
But your eyes
are what
embody you.
Those hazel orbs
hold all your sass
and all your sweetness,
and I
cherish nothing
more than
seeing them
staring
back at me.
Heat Death
Any moment
not wrapped
in your arms,
tasting your lips,
is just a waste
of the time
that I spend
slipping towards
oblivion
waiting for the
inevitable
heat death
of the universe.
Sobriety
My gums
buzz numbly
as the rum tingles.
I can taste bile
rising in the
back of my throat.
There’s no
real reason
for this,
but I do know
that my sobriety
doesn’t want to be found,
so she’ll be hiding
real well at the
bottom of this bottle.
On fire
The validity
of your opinions
is called
into
question
when you let your
twisted backwards bigotry
show through the cracks
of your
politically correct mask.
I see hate in your eyes,
hidden behind a sheen
of what you call
loving your neighbor.
I’d have real strong feelings
about being your neighbor,
it’s the kind of hate
that wouldn’t do the courtesy
of pissing on you
when you’re on fire.
Rexicorn 