Sunday, March 25, 2012

Touching Bottom

the broken screw. open doors. a lifetime. a moment. small. large. immeasureable. like her skin. too touchable. her eyes. wide open. her journey interrupted.

little things. they get so large. places. to go. they make us forget where we are. soft lights. gentle monsters. and the maps they've drawn. to empty treasures.

how far we'll go. for those riches.

the hound. panting. as the moon is so kind as to pet its head. the ogre weeps. gingerbread tears. sweet as they are fleet. as they run off with his grin.

her empty bed breathes. the darkness rises and falls. like a buoy in the ocean. grown tired of swimming.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Always Thought

I appreciate the guest post, Jewel Rodgers

I always thought home alarms were a waste of money until my house got broken into. They took everything from the pillows on the couch to the jewelry my grandmother had left me and there was really just no going back. I had never felt more violated or vulnerable in my whole life and it’s tough for me to talk about it even to this day. I now take home security really, really seriously as it’s hard for me to imagine it happening again and what I would do. Things like locking the windows and doors and installing motion detectors have made me feel a lot better but at the end of the day I wish I hadn’t had so much to lose in the first place. Also, to make matters worse I didn’t have insurance so I wasn’t covered for anything they took – that was just like rubbing salt in the wound. I wish I could go back and take better care of my things but afterall, they were just things so I’ll live.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Deep Penetration

She fucks hard. Like the world is ending. Because for her it always is. Ending. She fucks hard. Like God isn't listening. Because he never has.

Dead skin loses her in the twilight. Grim patches of sand in a tempest of sun. One great stark yellow eye staring. Unblinking and distant. One impossibly large grave. To hold it all. Every grin and tear. Every shout and whisper. The whole world coming off in a series of broken masks.

She wears her lovers like costumes. Each one for a different occasion. Delicate kisses in deep dark places. Her touch is manic. Frantic with the need for pleasure. Her lips are glass. Smooth and reflective. Her desire is infectious.

She fucks hard. Like she wants to feel something. But doesn't.

She fucks hard. Like there's no one there. Because no one is.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Edible Bones

God comes in so many guises. It's difficult to discern the imitators from the real thing. Especially since you know, there is no actual god.

It's sad. So very sad. That human beings are such a weak and helpless animal. That they need a magic man in the sky to make their life worth living. Not that I can find a reason to live otherwise. But I am willing to admit, there isn't one. Am resolved to the cold, hard fact, that well, we're nothing more than sardines. Tightly packed inside this tin foil container we call Earth. Not very tasty, but doomed to be devoured nonetheless.

Heaven is the same as any fairy tales. Little girls and their sordid dreams of being princesses. Something left over from when the colonies were still under the rule of England.

I'm fine with life having no meaning. That's all it's ever had. Those who aren't need to seriously examine themselves. Magic men with long beards living in the clouds are not the answer.

the world is a cold, hard place to live. It's bright and fierce and crass. Religions attempt to soften that stick. But beaten with it you'll still be. Whether you view it as a mercy or a punishment is up to you.

but god, well, even if he did exist. to satisfy your need for an eternal father figure. well, even if he were real, i doubt he'd love you any better than the father the earth has provided.

religion loves to tell you how special you are. that's how it's lasted all these years. making the insignificant feel important. that god is listening. but the reality is, even is there were a god, which there isn't. but even if there were, he'd have better things to do.

the fact is you don't really matter. and you're not special.

you're just one in a long array of insects. stranded on a leaf that's doomed to wither.