Um, Whatever…

I am in love with the dead

I am in love with the dead, the dying, everything that is ugly. I dream of the weak and the starving and want them wrapped tightly in my arms until the last sigh of life is squeezed from their frail bodies. I love the wretched, I love the wronged, I love the destroyers of beautiful things and then I love those things they have destroyed. I long for flames at the flower’s base and for broken bottles all throughout the streets. I love all that is wrong and hurt and abused and marginalized – I love the sound of sirens and gun shots and bombs and crying and wailing and more than anything else in the world, I love the sight of a tear against the soft cheeks of usurped innocence.

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Black Outs

I am the yin and yang; dark and light; good and bad; positive and negative. I have seen the edge where my two souls meet; the clash of storms vying for space. There is a raging swirling pool there filled with blackness at its core desiring all that could exist to feed its engine of … Read moreBlack Outs

Falling Alseep

Places I’ve passed out: Bathrooms in Bars, Bus Stop Benches, Garbage Dumpsters, Abandoned Houses, High School Bleachers, Playgrounds:      (swing sets, teeter-totters, merry-go-rounds) Back seats of open cars, Train stations, bus stations, Park benches, under bridges, stairwells, Bushes on the side of the road, Wooden Docks, up in a tree, Mountain Caves.

Simple Suicide

Walking out of the drug store with the water pistol that looked real enough to him, albeit the bright orange end in his hand, he strolled easily down the street. Not sure of what to do next, he walked towards the white house attempting to break off the orange nose of the water pistol. “Won’t work at all,” he half thought half said aloud. Finally breaking it off, he decided after some deliberation that the orange piece was going in the garbage and not on the ground. He would not have is his second to last action on the earth be littering.
Finally he arrived at Lafayette park, right in front of the White House. “What a piece of tainted shit that is,” he yelled. There were snipers on every building he knew, but hadn’t really formulated a plan. More shooting from the hip – the way he’d always done; playing every situation as a hand dealt to him, the same as a coin lands how it lands.
A secret service cop finally walked up to him after several minutes of ridiculous tantrums. He had begun to wonder if they would ever bother to enforce their police state. He’d already called most the people’s names he could remember any number of epithets for their character, their actions, their livelihood.
“How are you today, sir?” the stern young face asked in pubescent tones.

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Convenience

there’s a bar with a stool for me that I can’t get to easily. I must overcome too many adversities: all my knuckles hurt, ache really, and my back is stabbing me and twisting the knife, plus I found a lump near my spine; I hope it’s a spider bite, further, my neck won’t straighten … Read moreConvenience

Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind