“Issues”- Curious Snippets: Some Good, some bad, some disturbing and repulsive.
vain, desperately wished to remain closed as the razor’s metallic edge -devoid of remorse- parted its subject like the unzipping of clothing several sizes too small. **
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** Some of the flies were ordinary-looking houseflies, others had bodies which were green in color (very flashy)! Some even had patterns like grey and black stripes running along their abdomens. They couldn’t have cared less about being so closely examined. It had been such a hot summer and, in the sweltering heat of that afternoon, the still moist pile of rabbit heads demanded all of their attention. **
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A Poem of Dark Madness
At a time like this I miss peaceful bliss; So I dismiss the thought of peace and French kiss The lips of things fiendish, of fiendish things. Things in darkness seen, Brought to mind by perhaps too much caffeine. Like… Money well-spent on a cooperative whore; The feeling I get as I witness coagulant gore Drip from the ceiling and onto the floor. Scores of falling ammo-shell casings, Tinkling like rain… These are but a few things that delight my brain. I like to drown bunnies; perhaps twist off their heads. And cleave the flesh from their skulls soon after they’re dead. I pick my scabs so the wounds will heal slowly. I flick boogers, after digging my nose raw when I’m lonely. If I’m bored, I might, tonight, pierce my nipples with a worm-encrusted, rusted fishhook. Or, violently, I could slam the wrinkled skin of my balls in some old dusty book. Look… I’ll admit, to some, these hobbies may seem crazy. But, for me, they’re fun things to imagine when I’m feeling lazy... Lazy… Hazy… And dreamy… Nightmares full of bloody murder leave my shorts creamy. Screaming… Blood streaming… From the floor to the ceiling. In winter, I suspect spilled guts should hit the ground steaming. Meaningless chatter, I gather, is what’s the matter. It rattles my mind, and in time, I find I’m becoming madder. Hiss, I do, like the venomous puff adder; And piss a painfully milky pus from my bladder. Lust precedes viscous infectious musk. From dusk until dawn, we spawn, with intent to gain trust. Rust is a plus if the knife will still cut. If not, it can still stab a pregnant nurse in the gut. Squealing takes place from tires at the start of a race; But it also takes place when someone’s face is torn from its place. Hear that? Never mind, must have just been the wind. Spin, spinning, spun is the state that my mind has been in. Winning’s such fun once losing’s begun. Running, once begun, is never done. Rang, rung, wringing my hands in the beginning… But, now I’m cool and collected as I commence with the sinning. Pinning the tail on the donkey sends me a’ grinning… Doctor, I find your pills worthless; my mind’s beyond healing. We often try not to cry and sometimes we die trying… A pencil sent into a man’s eye Keeps that man’s eye Off another man’s wife when that man’s eye Feels like eyeing. Why no, officer, there’s no trouble here. It’s clear, after a night spent digging, evidence disappears. |
A nice photo I'd taken of a diluted mixture of watery blood trickling over a concrete block.
It felt as if someone had touched the rounded, melting tip of an icicle to my face… Then another… And another… Until the points of contact were so many -and so frequent- I could no longer sleep. I awoke to the chill of late February rain dancing about my half naked body. For a moment, I pondered, “Aren’t you tired of finding yourself like this?”. This morning had just been another one of countless mornings wherein I found myself in such a predicament… Scantly clothed, muscles aching, and a chorus of hell-song within my skull. I’m barely able to recall the circumstances leading up to my present condition. The night’s events all muddled within my memory, as if I’d been out on a binder of drinking and drug abuse. But that was not the case. Images and mental footage flashed behind my eyelids. There is great difficulty in deciphering which events took place first, second, even last… My memory, and every picture therein, felt scrambled chronologically. Again, I asked myself, “Aren’t you tired of this?”.
I raise myself unto my elbows, assuming a leisurely posture upon the snow-white gravel of a remote country road. As blood, clumpy and sticky, encrusted with miniscule slivers of flesh and hair, loosens its hold in the morning’s weather, small rivulets of crimson trickle down my body and blend with the chalky, white mud-dust of the road. I thought of how the bloody mixture reminded me of a vanilla-strawberry swirl ice cream cup. I always loved ice cream cups as a child; hell… I still do. A smile slowly wrestles its way into the overworked muscles of my face, as if answering my previously posed question. “Tired of this?”… Never. "Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice, That's What Girls Are Made Of"
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A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A ZOMBIE
Teeth clench; I bite, pulling as I chew…
Sinewy tissue… Stretching, snapping, slapping my face,
Fluids spray and splatter, obstructing my view.
My view, now askew, blood clots my vision…
My nails, now like claws, easily make incision.
Decisions… Now, I have none to make.
It will take more than a stake to my heart to end this mindless heartache.
Breaks, scrapes, broken bones, even violent amputation
Fails to deter my hunger to devour the remaining live population…
Given time, a nation, we -the undead- surely shall be
Large and in charge of a land hopelessly caught up in Anarchy.
If I could stop long enough to think of years to come,
I’d realize eventually we may run out of these flesh-covered, screaming,
Running, human-buckets-of-chum.
We should save some… Perhaps, put them on farms…
Better thought of as ranches.
When hunger comes, we could simply then harvest them…
Like apples, from orchard branches.
But, alas, the mindset of the zombie does not work this way…
We will spread, indiscriminately feeding on humans like prey,
Leaving behind nothing but rot and decay…
Say, come to think of it, I’m certainly not picky…
I’ve eaten chunks of dogs, cats, and vermin, even my old best friend, Ricky.
Sick… He is now, of course, in fact last week I’d seen him
Limping around downtown eating pigeons outside the museum.
Well, enough time I’ve now wasted in contemplation…
I’ve a grumble in my tummy that knows no satiation.
Farewell, for now, dear reader, perhaps someday we’ll meet.
Of course, if you see me coming first, I’m sure you’ll move your feet…
Faster and harder than ever before;
Seek shelter somewhere and nail shut the door.
No matter, no hard feelings I harbor for your aversion to me.
Such is a day in the life of this lonely… But, thoughtful zombie.
Teeth clench; I bite, pulling as I chew…
Sinewy tissue… Stretching, snapping, slapping my face,
Fluids spray and splatter, obstructing my view.
My view, now askew, blood clots my vision…
My nails, now like claws, easily make incision.
Decisions… Now, I have none to make.
It will take more than a stake to my heart to end this mindless heartache.
Breaks, scrapes, broken bones, even violent amputation
Fails to deter my hunger to devour the remaining live population…
Given time, a nation, we -the undead- surely shall be
Large and in charge of a land hopelessly caught up in Anarchy.
If I could stop long enough to think of years to come,
I’d realize eventually we may run out of these flesh-covered, screaming,
Running, human-buckets-of-chum.
We should save some… Perhaps, put them on farms…
Better thought of as ranches.
When hunger comes, we could simply then harvest them…
Like apples, from orchard branches.
But, alas, the mindset of the zombie does not work this way…
We will spread, indiscriminately feeding on humans like prey,
Leaving behind nothing but rot and decay…
Say, come to think of it, I’m certainly not picky…
I’ve eaten chunks of dogs, cats, and vermin, even my old best friend, Ricky.
Sick… He is now, of course, in fact last week I’d seen him
Limping around downtown eating pigeons outside the museum.
Well, enough time I’ve now wasted in contemplation…
I’ve a grumble in my tummy that knows no satiation.
Farewell, for now, dear reader, perhaps someday we’ll meet.
Of course, if you see me coming first, I’m sure you’ll move your feet…
Faster and harder than ever before;
Seek shelter somewhere and nail shut the door.
No matter, no hard feelings I harbor for your aversion to me.
Such is a day in the life of this lonely… But, thoughtful zombie.