All Aboard!

Beneath the Skin

I look around, somewhat sadly.
Why do I feel so alone even among this group of friends?
I know the reason, but I'd rather not admit it.
It's because I long for...

     Why is this being written?
     What do you think you're doing?
     Stop moping!
     Be a man!
     Aren't you a man?

I feel weak sometimes,
but never like I do when I think of telling her.
My cowardice is soul consuming,
despicable I know.    

     Shut up!
     Where do you get off?
     Just who said you could be so depressed?
     Man-up!
     You're disrespecting your gender!

I've felt like this before,
I think,
I'm not sure,
It's not hurt like this before.

     What hurts?
     What pain?
     You ain't bleedin',
     So stop cryin'!
     You're hurt because you're weak!

Sometimes I want to tell her,
No, always I do.
But she won't want me,
not even I do.

     If you told her,
     She would laugh.
     Why wouldn't she?
     You're so stupid!
     Give up, man-up!

I fear denial,
Judgement.
And it would be awkward,
would I hurt her?

     Of course you would!
     Look what you do to you!
     Do you really think she'd be
     Happy near you?
     Even your mother hates you!

In dreams I tell her,
and she says yes,
but then reality is considered,
and dream becomes nightmare.

     Oh Lord, here it comes!
     Here comes the crying!
     The meaningless words,
     and the empty tears!
     It's not like you really care.

Ugly eyes,
gross physique.
Repellent smell.
Three truths of me, too apparent.

     Self-concerned crybaby!
     Nobody wants to read this dribble!
     Why do you continue to type?
     If you're so sad, just die already.
     Waste of space.

It would relieve me,
to fall from the world.
But that's no solution,
death is submerged in anguish.

     Shut up, moron.
I can't.
     Why not?
Because I-
     Because why?
I want to-
     Can you?
-tell her.
     But you won't...

How Democracy Works

Bare

Like a shell
My skin was thick
Hard, impenetrable
A shield against the world
And then there was you
Picking and poking
Scratching and peeling
Until I grew weak
And let you in
We spent some days together
Me without my skin
Then you left
Left me alone, bare to the world
Helplessly exposed to the pervading horrors of
Life
I quickly began to whither.
Soon I will die.

Happenstance

Why Things Are "Uncool" Once They're Popular (Rant Source: Tattoos)

Oh, tattoos, the artistic underdog. There should be a movie starring all artistic forms as animals showing the ridicule and isolation suffered by poor Tattoo for so many years until he finally managed to climb to the top and prove his worth to the other arts. The only problem is, he became a bit of a soulless hipster dipshit to get there.

There's a recurring problem in our society: the second anything becomes "popular" it is automatically hated by a portion of the population. Many followers or fans of such thing 

Bacon

Being more
Awesome than
Cereal
Or
Nutter butters

Implications

Today Was A Good Picture Day ^_^

Recipe for Disaster

Kindle

Dear Desiree (Raw)

Dear Desiree,

This might come as a bit of a shock to you, considering how we haven't met and all, but I really, really want you out of my life. I want you so far out of my life whatever star brings you morning light can't reflect back to me in even a hundred million years. I want you out of my life so hard Thor's mighty hammer seems soft. I want to send you back to whatever stinking, slimy pit you slunk out of and seal it right back up with miles and miles of boiling, bubbling lava.

You're probably offended by now. Honestly, why could you be? You're the bane of all existence! I'm sure you've heard it before. Why does this come as a surprise that you're hearing it from me? Well, I suppose it's because I couldn't keep away from you. I brought this on myself, I guess. On both of us, really. It's just... How could I not? I mean, you know how you are. How enticing you can be. With a flick of your eyes away go the pants and I'm ready to roll. So I take it back, looking at it now. I brought on nothing. This was all you. You and your spite and your lust. And your Desire.

Yes, we've come to the root of it, ladies. Miss Desiree in Oklahoma, Lady Desiree from Ohio, Madam Desiree in Minnesota, and the Desirees of all the other forty-seven states (and however many countries. That number's always changing.) this isn't about you. No, not directly. It is your name-mother with which I have wrath. So I apologize if I have, to you, seem harsh.

But your name-mother must know. She must hear it. And you must hear it, too. She is a wicked, vile wretch. A true witch among hapless mortals. She ensnared our kind when the race was young, and her calloused claws have refused to let us go. In the beginning she was a far less sinister force, even, perhaps, a guiding hand showing us what to eat and when to eat it. How to sleep and when to sleep it. Who to love and how to love them. That power has corrupted her. She guides us now more quickly to our demise than ever we have raced before.

How now I wish to suck her from my mind. Call the nearest liposuction surgeon and demand to have her yanked from my brain and tossed away like the tumor she is. She's made me made, name-daughters, made me awfully, insanely mad. How could I not be? I ask you from my knees: how could I not be? The way she whispers such delicious thoughts day in and day out, one after the other like a colony of ants discovering the sugar grain in a cabinet. And how, like those ants, I obey those whispers. My body moves against my brain, gleefully indulging in whatever heinous delight she's brought to offer.

To my thighs, that will go. My gut, my butt. My pride, my ego. And worst of all my conscious.

You're a dragon who must be slain, and yet I can't bring myself to hire a slayer. For all the pain you give to me--wrapped in plastic agony and tied in a neat, morose bow--you give me something valuable. It's a diamond in the rough, no doubt about that, and a lesser prospector might quit his pan before it paddles on by. I see it though, you sneaky bitch. I see what you've hidden within the Playboy Mansion at the heart of a cake by a hammock on a lake. I see it. I see that without all the shit you throw at me, all the temptations I want to tear from my brain, I can never be half of what I want. I see that it is you that has made me what I am, and I am at your mercy to be who I eventually will be.

I see that without desire, there can't be humanity.

Sincerely,

An Overindulgent Man

Recipe for Disaster - Free!

Oh damn, dropped the ball on this one! I meant to post this yesterday, but it totally slipped my mind, and I'm sorry about that. To make up for it, I'm extending the special deal through Thursday, so hopefully nobody's getting screwed over on my account. Now, what exactly am I talking about?

Why, this of course!

Latest flash fiction piece: Recipe for Disaster. This is actually an old, old piece from... oh, I dunno. I'd wager around Sophomore year in high school. I cleaned it up, gave it a kiss on the forehead, and finally kicked it outta the nest for you guys to enjoy. This short actually has a sister piece of sorts which will hopefully be released later in the month. Unfortunately that short has a poem introduction, and we all know poems aren't exactly my forte, but hopefully it'll all come together sooner than later.

Anyways, you can pick up Recipe for Disaster on the Kindle here:

http://www.amazon.com/Recipe-Disaster-Flash-Fiction-ebook/dp/B00889I0KC

As always, the cover was made by the beautiful Maranda Lee Scott, who played around a little with the lighting and the foil. Just because I'm such a trivia hog, here's a copy of the cover before we got the colors right:

An Understanding

I've come to an understanding
         Oh?
         About what?
Well, you see
The whole time I sat there
I couldn't figure it out
This tight
Painful
Pinching feeling
In my bladder
And only now that I'm standing
Do I realize
I have to pee

People Talk About Drugs...