“did they say that it was a joy ride? a fucking joy ride?” he lit a cigarette, remembering, it was after their first fight. he pulled hard and exhaled, annoyed, “a fucking joy ride. man, that’s some fucking nerve.”
Category Archives: frags
abandoned pieces, fragments, scraps
daffodils and trauma
there were cracked turtles, shells shattered just a little bit, licking their wounds but completely high because of it, like they got off on the pain and he caressed one with a tendril, cooing it bird songs designed to appeal and the other tendril wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. he whispered, “the sky is purple with my desire.”
to which she responded, “the clouds have made the lake dizzy.”
and there were leopards neon green and small, like midgets on the lam that climbed around her shoulders and buried themselves in her hair. they peeked out occasionally, eyes glittering with contempt and loneliness, like severed lips without a face. she said, “come here, i have a lump in my throat”
slowly he dug deep until she choked out nothing but butterflies like tinfoil and spit. she was wretched with embarrassment. “surely” he said, looping both tendrils around her, thighs to hips to belly and breast, “you must be joking.”
and even as the leopards yawned lazily, pawing at his nose, he leaned closer and added, “all bruises heal ceaselessly, like magic, like air the lightening leaves after thunder.”
yours and only
hey boy, he said, crouching down beside him, listen to me boy.
and the younger man couldn’t tell the difference between his lungs and his chest, his ribs and his skin, he felt his nails digging deep into his sides and he wanted to claw his skin off. what, he spat, what, fucking what?
boy, he leaned in closer to lock eyes, to grab the younger man’s attention, to have him focus. you listen to me, you feel it don’t you?
the younger man was rocking back and forth, biting his bottom lip.
but you going about it the wrong way, the man shook the younger man’s shoulder, you’re trying to get rid of it boy. he grinned, yellow tobacco stained teeth, grizzled chin, wisps of grey hair blown across his eyes.
the younger man clenched his teeth and finally broke the skin.
it’s the only thing that’s truly yours, he stood up and appraised him one more time before they would start again, it’s the only thing that remains.
he helped the younger man get back on his feet, shaky and sweat drenched. he looked off to the horizon, the sun was setting. now stop fuckin’ about boy. we got work to do.
me
you vile wretched piece of shit, you sad fucking stain of a human being, you gutless worm, you touch anything and it spoils and rots, you’re a fucking disease, you leave blisters on everything you love, you’re an infection on everything that’s decent and human, you’re a forgotten cum stain, you’re an abortion, a severed tendon, a split lip. that’s all you are, fucking damage, you fuck damage, and damage everything you fuck, you’re a fucking weapon, there is no kindness in you, there’s nothing fucking human about you, you mongrel, you cunt, you use people, you break them, you gut them out because you have no heart of your own, you fucking liar, you empty shell, you waste of fucking meat, you and your sad flabby skin, your pathetic little cock, you’re a vermin of a man, you’re just fucking vermin, fucking kill you, i should fucking end you, fucking put your head through a window and cut your fucking neck, put a fucking end to this shit
the trick
my boy, he said, gristle stuck between his two front teeth, my boy the trick is to believe the lie you are living.
i get that, i said, whittling away at a branch we had found. pieces split from the blade landed on the stream, floating downward. i’m not stupid you know. i’ve done this sort of thing before.
yes boy, he shook his head, tried with his tongue to get at the gristle. yes, you have but this is a different sort of thing. they’re all wise to our kind these days. you see the stupid ones get plastered all over the news. they even had a documentary once.
he finally fingered his tooth and inspected what had been caught there. it was a between infomercials, i dont think anyone noticed it.
he flicked it away, which isn’t the point. they know we’re out there and we have to be careful. he pointed a thick finger at me, you my boy, you just starting out.
he smiled, new territory for you.
you cant say no, can you?
you fucking fool, you cant say no can you? you cant muster the fucking courage and say no to this wretched fucking existence, to this fucking parking space of a life, to your cock in your hand jerking off uselessly into the mouths of rats
you cant say fucking no to the lice you pick out of your crotch and swallow. you cant say no to the whole world fingering your caked and dry asshole. you cant say no to the split and torn mess that is its pussy, clotted and thick and full of choked fetuses and you put your mouth right on it, and lapping it up like a stew, like the stray fucking mongrel you are
you cant say no to jamming one dirty needle into your balls and thrashing it around until the urine and blood and sperm blend into one and the pressure shoots a stream out your sack as you pull the needle out and slide it your into your nipple, not even a fucking twitch you sad sorry bastard, plunging it along, hitting the plunger, shitting yourself, hot and itchy down your leg, the needle even deeper, you cant fucking say no as it pierces the aorta and you shoot it all up, your cum, blood and piss, right up in there, right into the blood stream.
you realize, clumps of feces around your ankles, what you’ve completely forgotten in your little cocktail, what you’ve left out. you pull the needle out, bend down and scoop up a handful. of course, of course, you fucking cant say no, can you?
subjugation
they laughed, they took a bite out of his shoulder, chewed on it, thought it over. they spat it back in his face. not enough, they said, you’re worthless, you’re spittle after a meal. you’re our urine after we take a shit. you’re the cum we forget to wipe off that dries down the length of our thighs.
they took turns, they tickled him until he bled, until snot came out of his nose in thick drabs of bloody mucus. he cries, they said, look, he cries like a monkey without his banana. they ran a nail along his scrotum, a testicle bled out. just like a monkey, they said and with a thin pinky fished out the other one. they skinned his penis to dab their mouths.
and when they began to separate the ribs off his spine, plucking them as they went along, as if they were listening for a tune, he was relieved that the choice had been his, that whatever laid ahead the second after they reached over and pierced his sternum, was his and his alone.
from the surface
from the surface i need this, i need to trace the line of this fracture, follow it where it goes. does it lead to something solid, somewhere safe, a cave, a tree, a water fall, a cliff? i need to trace the line of this fracture with its jagged edges and angles, with abrupt, haltering steps and rapid shots. i need to to follow it to see if leads to something even stronger than myself and i’ve done much to myself, i’ve armored myself to the point of heartlessness. but what if it leads to something weaker, something broken beyond repair, something that will keep me from breathing, something that will beg to bring me into despair? some dark truth i can no longer deny, some revelation that i’ve always been lost, i’ve never ever begun to be whole.
this is the vile dance, the tripping over. this is the rush of gambling with your soul.
bile and suicide
bile and suicide, she said, i feel like bile and suicide.
driven to a point where it becomes blind hate, blind desire, blind rage. looking for blinding time, to be struck across the eyes, blinded, to be what she sees, to be what you see when she looks at me. how marvelous, how beautiful, how utterly disgusting.
i am the broken window that shatters each view, provides no warmth, keeps nothing out, cuts anything that tries to leave.
and there another scar she has traced, another scorched eyelid. i can erase everything but i am too greedy, too hungry, too nostalgic. i want circuits for memory to never forget her taste, her breast, her laughter. i can fuck your mind as much as you want me to but in the end, i need to remember when you go away and leave me with nothing. i need to remember who i was and who you made me be.
she looked at me as though i was the owner of wounded animals
it’s a balance between
it’s a balance between momentum and pressure. steam rolling forward while keeping the center intact. if you look too closely at anything, inside, outside, your guts or the scenenary outside, focus on anywhere for too long, you’re lost, the momentum gets lost, the center flies apart.
you need to go fast enough to keep going but not too fast lest the centrifugal force breaks it apart.
and by keeping your eyes moving, roving, attentive, alert -but never closed- don’t you dare close your eyes- you just might be able to strike a balance, to find some middle ground that is safe.
but until then, it’s all bare knuckles and clenched teeth and utter complete madness.