Human Capital
Little humans so useless, still so valuable; Depreciating by the moment until they are Full Grown Burdens.
the Birthday Party
September came and went – Our sins were the clues that October had to follow. and the loves on the floor – great bodies, all of them – were too much for November, collapsing to its knees, Bloody Hands raised up to the gods of Time … “One More Time”, we said.
and I was happy
there was a moment when I thought we were going to die and I was happy.
In The Garden
In the garden, war rages; strategy & tactics, the unkraut wear the enemies Uniform, while the ever neutral Sunflower grows where it likes. The Colorado beetles crumble between fingertips – The Convention on Humanity demands they die humane deaths else the potatoes suffer a similar fate at their hands. why would Colorado export such fiends? … Read moreIn The Garden
maybe fucking think for a second next time
and what shall be your great reward? Failure? more and more failure? unable to handle the reigns handed you? For what should you be rewarded? allow your self be drawn in, with pillow-talk so Pius, over beers erecting platforms to hang from? Is this the great deed to be rewarded? Nearly beg for your own … Read moremaybe fucking think for a second next time
Trauma Poems
Dislocations: running over sharp stones, arm dangling from the elbow, flapping about like a scarf in the wind. it didn’t hurt, then. the way the voices pool, collecting in the soul – they didn’t hurt, then. oh, but had i killed one thousand men … i might have the courage to become one of them. … Read moreTrauma Poems
for Christopher
it’s fucked. no question about it. it’s sick, it’s twisted, it’s fucking insane! it’s gross – putrid and burns the nose! it is the world today. FINALLY! Fucking Finally! it is a glorious day! it is a day to rejoice not in the asshole biblical sense, but to really see the destruction as the clay … Read morefor Christopher
der Steinmissgeburt
we pray to the gods of stone for relief, and the suffering erweitert sich nur! what dull ears our gods redeem, offering relief only in so far as relief does no great good, no great ecstasy, food to the full, water to the drowning! A curse upon all the stone that builds and all the … Read moreder Steinmissgeburt
The Fly
“You know,” he thought to himself, “if you’re going to kill yourself, you should do it like Rachel Corrie.” He’d thought about her often. Not that she killed herself – the casual observer 10,000 miles away knew the IDF murdered her. Rather, her death had meant something. Her life means something. “She was,” he thought, … Read moreThe Fly