Another night of
haunted dreams;
you’ve left me,
but you won’t leave

alone and trembling
without your warmth,
I am an ice box
waiting to be
hacked and sculpted
into your desired piece
melt away to nurture the

I am certain that
peace will never
find me again,
how could I


How stupid is this
mother fucker…is
what I keep asking
myself every morning
as I retreat to my

(the thought of him shitting,
shaving his pubic hairs, and
combing his thinning hair
before I have the opportunity
to enjoy a moment of peace
and quiet and solitude,
infuriates me, setting the tone
for the remainder of the day)

“Honey! Baby!” he yells,
through the cheap bathroom
he purchased for a “steal”
and installed himself, with
apparent disregard to
proper measurements
and quality:
“Can you bring me a roll
of toilet paper?”

What I really want to
is bring him a roll of dynamite
to blow his hideous bathroom
to pieces,
and, with any luck from a
Just god,
HIM (not his brain, since
that’s already shred to bits).

Oh, why did I marry this man?
Why have I birthed his children?
Can I not cash in a takeback
in this lifetime? A return to sender?
(even though the sender wouldn’t
want him

The traits that I once
recognized as manly
were completely
imaginary; apparently
concocted in my brain,
which makes me think
I may need stronger
to last another day.

my sanity, my sanity
is what I desire,
but instead,
I chose the dick and
a nice vanity
rather than
a brain and a slice
of sincerity…but cursed,
I received the hilarity,
like most men-
the normal kind
the rarity.

In the end and at the conclusion
of life, we all receive
a big ‘fuck you’ of what
we’ve been missing–
a big chunk of hindsight

psychiatric office dating

The waiting room,
chilly and slightly dimmed
from dead lightbulbs,
has the peculiar feeling of
impending suicide.

The chairs are tightly
packed together and
the people are herded
in and out of offices,
as life problems must be
solved in a capitalistic

A number of attractive
are also part of the herd,
which confuses me a bit:
And that may seem sexist,
but a woman with good looks
can get almost anything they might

Perhaps the drugs are the
desired object; to dull the
absurdities they must face
on a daily basis; old men
slurping down Viagra’s like
pez candy, constantly gawking,
and vulgar bumbling attempts to flirt
with them.

But perhaps this is the
place I should meet the
woman of my dreams
as we most likely have
thing or two
in common.

We could share drugs,
mix and tests the effects,
naked or not, but preferably
naked. If anything, she most
likely fucks like a majestic
trap queen.

Or she’s here because she
doesn’t know how to please
a man sexually, and now,
with a crazy woman.

I guess that wouldn’t
be any different than my
historical choices.

Lest we forget, I am
crazy too.


A generation from now,
your existence will not

We are all obscure figures,
except for the very few
gifted and talented,
in which
the gods are modeled

who will be remembered
is not a question that
I quarrel with any longer.

In fact, I quarrel no more
with the question of this life
for indeed we will all die
and all be forgotten
when the tide of the universe
turns high.

love and lies

The fucking illusions of love
and their faulted flaws
not even the blind can escape
these fleeting feelings of
trust, companionship, togetherness

the lady with the short hairstyle
and short skirt
approaches, but you second guess
your human instinct to
sexually ravage this gorgeous
because her eyes; dark, captivating, and sensual
telling you that’s what she wants
you convince yourself that the woman
you love
will somehow give you better head that night
you refused
the woman
she’ll never even know about.

Love, unsettled

No responses
No replies
No consequences
Uncountable cries
She’s in control
The emotions tremble
around the thoughts of


She could be doing this
or that
or with him
or with them
or with her
or with all

While I have no possibilities
of that
with anyone

Fucking pretty ass woman
controls my heart
but keeps it beating
without squeezing it tight enough
to crush it
so recovery

Fuck my life.


she verbally vomits one sentence after another
and then another

what’s wrong with talking in sentences
might wonder

It’s that the sentences never stop;
they are infinite; the sentences are on a loop

lacking the intelligence of a cow.

i can’t take them anymore. please make them stop.
there appears to me, that there
is only one solution:

one of us has to die.