jgtaylor

Slow Kids

He was an average kid filled with average stupidty and reasonably clear skin for being in 8th grade and I didn’t really give a shit about him. His sister was in the grade below us and I couldn’t stop thinking about her: white puffy sleeved blouses, full lips and dark brown hair on a creamy face. I wanted to fuck her under the bleachers during a football game and leave her quivering without my load, declaring her unworthy of my seed. I’m not sure why. She never said anything to me and I never even got to know her. I felt a little guilty for imagining that about her.

But she’s unimportant, afterall, I never stabbed her. It was her brother that started the whole mess. George fucking Harrington had a knack for instigating a violent reaction and appearing the martyr. I’d seen it several times. Anyway, most of this is unimportant, except that I wound up stabbing him in the hand with my pencil and then hitting him across the head and body by swinging my desk into him. It wasn’t that big a deal; the pencil went right through and except for a little bleeding from the skin tearing, it missed anything important and left mostly a bruise, and the desk was more visually effective than anything else, since I hadn’t gotten a good enough swing by the seat back and the angle was awkward so that it more glanced than belted.

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all crap

It’s all crap. I spend more time playing with my poetry and reading it and re-reading it and liking it and not liking it and editing and editing and editing and not doing a damn thing with it, except not writing it. It’s a petulant child that taunts me with my glory days, except when … Read moreall crap

hot sex

"I may kill you after all this.You’ll wind up losing 20 poundsbefore I’m done with you.You’re such a dirty old man,the way you cum on my face(and make me beg for it)And you sweat like a pig!It drips into my eyes and stingsand I smell like you for hours afterwards;you’re just so disgusting,I love it." … Read morehot sex

   on the soft carpets where

   on the soft carpets where the Damage was the worst    Did you see the burns as A new symbol of his love?    Or did you just accept it As the price you pay for a    Semblance of Security at night But you still dream of kindness    and gentle blades of grass       don’t you?

beat up

Never got so beat up that I couldn’t see lifefrom the barrel of hell –        shiny blue and wreaking of sobriety,we fuck in solitary,from behind confinementwalls made from my own fearswhere she criesand I lieabout the night.And besides, it was not so long ago that the tearswere mine and the lies hers,but we said we would … Read morebeat up

Sand Tombs

I feel the ground beneath my feet the faces in the sand speak to me little traces of humanity in a history so filled with misery thought not of our own mortality I plant my heart in this sand sea. I say good night and bid them well those who passed over these broken shells, … Read moreSand Tombs

Wasted Children

I will drink and drink until I am drunk with life I said I would – when? was it 10,000 years ago when I spent my days in mud and muck waiting for a lung to breath the scent of your hair across pillows, green as spring lawns manicured to hide the dangers of love? … Read moreWasted Children

Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind