Month: January 2025

Hammers and Nails

Crackling flames crinkle the cold air in the woods outside my memories. Why run when the river can carry you smoothly to a symphonic sea? This fire’s name is Aurora, and she is melting the guns my father taught me to grow. The blasts pop like candy in the mouth. X rays blast through my holographic skull, revealing dancing neurons. The sinewy little sluts grind on while my memories collapse like the furniture I tried to put together, too female for the hammer. Familiar only with the nail.

Obliterated Tuesdays

Obliterated Tuesdays jackhammer the week. What slovenly hills must I climb to catharsis today? The weeks mail themselves to my lover, and he sews them in his coat. He’s freezing, I’m burning. My bikini is tight. My job is to shovel wishes off the beaches of my mind and into the wallets of my enemies. Love grows along the fences in this town like ivy, tearing it down in elegant slow motion. My week dines on dinosaurs and government evasion. Armies convene in my blood to fight the hordes of daily tasks. Wednesday waits around the corner, sucking on candy cigarettes and wearing a black leather jacket emblazoned with the word, “Hope.”

Friendliness

Hi neighbor! I say as though I’m not bare naked and watching poisonous frogs copulate in my yard. It’s nice weather we’re having. The balmy air and sweating clouds came to tea and I served them with the lilac china my ghosts love so well. Friendliness is next to godliness. That’s what they say, right? My eyes have lost patience with waiting. They dart into a wise old fox’s den.

Sell Yourself

Concord curtains crusted with sultry amethysts drape the windows of my mind. My mind is an old Victorian. Pink and purple with yellow trim. In the corridors are ghosts. The dead pace about my mind with their leger books, counting my sins and disintegrating my offspring. To be the moon glowing alone and cold – how wonderful. Instead, my thoughts are but drywall dust blown away as gusts of brain damage convulse through me. The windows have voices, and they all sing Intuition by Jewel. Sell yourself, just cash in. Already did. Here, sweetheart. See the agent hawking my hallways to purveyors of lust?

Social Drudgery

Voracious velocity vivisects my slow grace, the day chomping at my peace like a piranha. I was having a delightful time – finger sandwiches and ostentatious bird song, when the all encompassing pace of contemporary social drivel knocks me out of my luscious galoshes. Now I paint black polka dots on meerkat caskets, waiting to retire and expire.


Desires

Surprisingly, Death’s door is butter yellow with a pink butterfly wreath. My alter ego is drunk in my neighbor’s garden, touching her pansies in the most unbecoming way. When I cross Death’s threshold tonight in the lingerie I bought at the discount department store, the fraying rayon pulling taut over my eagerness, all my menstrual blood will gush out of the house. My terror will be the breeze on your back as you stand on my grave and say, “Where did you put my satisfaction?”