I looked in a stone mirror |
deep in a cavern underground
and this is what I saw.
Current Residence: here
Damsel in ExcessI'm not a damsel on distress.Damsel in Excess by wh0rem0ans
I am a damsel in excess. You
buy me beer because I wake
up your soul and look at all
your Audubon photos of birds
in nests making babies. You
wonder if You have been alove
before you met me. The bar-
tender who told me beer was
a rape at six dollars tells me
to let you pay. (Then she pointed
out her husband and I let you pay.)
And you tell me you tied bread ties
to bat wings and let the bat go
off of Bancroft Hall at the Naval
Academy just for fun in only
your skivvies and I leave when
I know I like bats more than you.
and beyondI never used acid as Itand beyond by wh0rem0ans
was meant to be used
but it was still beautiful
trees reached out to me
women fucked in piles
music touched my hair
but the most beautiful
of all the dormant smells
was the scent of beyond.
NaPoMo 2I felt the puppet master's strings,NaPoMo 2 by wh0rem0ans
knew they were there for the very
first time, again. that's odd. that's
even stranger than marrying when
I never wanted to. those strings are
imbedded to almost ten years deep.
I didn't notice them again until I did.
Now I will notice and I will remove,
I will remove them and marry mySelf.
NaPo1I'm an April fool and a March Madness.NaPo1 by wh0rem0ans
I'm Valentine Day and your New Year.
I'm Christmas and Hanukkah lights and
I'm Halloween witch and Labor Day.
I'm a holiday wrapped in skin and sigh.
I'm a celebration of everything new and
I'm a recitation of the old and treasured.
I'm the reason every day is my birthday.
Prima NoctaIt doesn't happen how you think it does.Prima Nocta by Memnalar
You're probably strung out, ducked into the wrong alley to hit the pipe. It waited there, watching you, biding time until you were good and fucked before ripping a new hole in your throat. Maybe your thigh if it's in a rush. You spray out all over the wall, all over yourself, all over it. You just see yellow eyes, fucking foot-long tongue lapping you up, and then nothing.
But then, something. Maybe you smell dogshit, old take-out containers, dried-out tampons and whatever else people threw away along with you. You reach up and around, wipe the maggots off your face. You find a door up there, push it open. Daylight. It feels like a blowtorch on your hand, and you smell your skin bubbling away as the lid falls closed.
No, you didn't smell it. You tasted it. Tasted your skin burning, just like you're tasting this dumpster and the filth you're swimming in.
Maybe you sleep.
Maybe you wake up just in time to hear the truck grab hold of your roac