Morning sun. Fried eggs in the air. Screen door slam. Semiconsciousness.

Sturgill squinted, salivated, leaned over the rail, and blew chunks like a dog.

His niece hit the trailer door from inside. "Don't be barfin' on that walkway! I fuckin' walk there!"

Sturgill wiped the grits off his lips, immersed in reverie. What luck, finding his niece's ex's stash. Big ol' box of baseball cards. Sold 'em for $2000 at the sports card expo yesterday. Treated himself too. Horse, booze, God knows what were those pills. Still a thousand bucks left. Maybe he'd go see little Annie later. Been awhile since he... Heh. Yeah, he'd definitely pay Annie a visit.

Sturgill spit and looked up in gratitude. Life was good. The sun was warm. Breakfast hot. Sturgill slapped the back of his neck, then wiped a mosquito's bloody carcass off his hand. He shook his head, appreciating the ups and downs, yin and yang, all that shit. To think, fuck... wasn't even two days ago, he had a mind to kill himself.

11/12/2024

I’ll stand at the edge and I’ll beg her to shove me

So lovely

But smoothly won’t work

I tread roughly

So here I must stay

And right here I will be

A heart that can’t stray

Since the ring lacks a key

But maybe one day

I’ll break out and I’ll see

The bubbly has always been poison to me

A song

a melody

a gift of poetry

a shift in complexity

stillness.

From a long blur

to a lifetime of love

you shifted

a world inside of my world

where this world

is different.

The sound of your melody

crying into this new world you see

you‘re different.

Lion of God

in the midst of all the bizarre

Aria you are

the Joy we need.

— KD

If you're going to point the finger

Covered with the black tar hate

At countries far beyond our third world...

Our disassembled fifty states...

Just remember we eat poison,

And our water reeks of sludge...

We're reflected in our mirror maze

Forty times but still don't budge

'less we're talking in a windstorm

Is the only time we'll hear...

Wear another person's shoes...

Try them out and feel the sole

As it scrapes against the concrete...

There are blessings we won't know...

Stop and stare into reflections

Of that immigrant you fear...

Be him Mexican, Brazilian, or of

Palestinian ilk...

These are people who can only

Save us from our own demise...

If we show them all our asses

We are aping a disguise

Of a species that cannot progress...

Canker sores denying salve...

Better wall your eyes and mouth off...

Better fence off your sweet grave...

Jump inside a cement mixer

'til there's nothing left to save...

Wear another person's shoes...

Try them out and feel the sole

As it scrapes against the concrete...

There are blessings we don't know...

Tumorous heads grow on your shoulder...

Is that just another shade

Of some self that slipped your field count?...

When you look down at your plate

Do you see meat and

Potatoes?...

Is there something else you crave?...

Maybe news from something different?...

Could their

Feelings be betrayed?...

You could pop fresh heads like bubbles,

Or big bulbous welts on skin,

Homosexual accusations

That your Psyche aims to win...

Flip the apple cart and blame the ones

That open wide their veins...

...You'll be living in some corner

With the remnants of lost claims...

11/10/24

Bunny Villaire

Edit #4

in my vicious dreams

the stars bleed red

black clouds churn and twist

stripping the trees bare

and all the people run

in my vicious dreams

i take what i want

maybe a little more

like john dillinger on a spree

as marilyn monroe spins

her dress billowing in bliss

i course her pink river

to my climactic thrust

in my vicious dreams

gold and honey flow from my pockets

while the dancers shimmy

i am untamed

chewing meat and tearing silk

with canine teeth

these walls cannot hold me

11/10/2024

You cannot do the things

that I have done—

and live as a man is meant to live.

I remember my sins,

they are ever-present,

a lens through which I see my life.

Can I seek happiness?

No—happiness is not yours.

You had your chance like everyone else;

you chose a different path.

Would it be better to end it?

No—your debt is not paid,

you have been given life,

and to squander it would be a greater sin still.

You must subsist on what suits,

and look to make good.

You may not throw your life away,

but it is yours to spend.

Was it really so terrible?

You wouldn’t like you.

So you must become else,

or you must bear the burden.

The voice in your head is yours.

Desire

The ache of wanting

Your face on every woman I see

My love for you grows

It pulses in my chest

As the waves pound the shore

I need you more than I can say

Yet I try to everyday

My soul longs to be with yours

When our bodies embrace

Joined together

In the rhythm of love and passion

Perfectly synchronized

Breathing each other’s breath

Knowing glances

We achieve the ultimate pleasure

An orgasm consumed by love

Becoming as one

We are complete

Our fate has been met

Every time I wake up,

I'm someone new again.

I'm losing myself,

forgetting myself,

letting my

autopilot

kick in.

Where is my core?

Where is my Soul?

Where is my pain?

My fault,

Didn't stay in touch with myself

Let time pass by,

goes so much faster

than I thought it could.

A stranger to yourself

is a unique kind of loss.

Doing things without meaning,

Still in Life,

but somewhere, stopped living.

I know there was a struggle,

unrelenting,

never ending.

Is this the result,

my unidentifiable self,

Out of all the unknown,

for which I was striving?