“Shovels breaking ground,
black leaves fall from heaven,
dry throat full of dirt,
death was always a promise,
misery now, forever.”

Mouth Agape

“when I was 11 my best friend got suspended from school because he brought his lucky Third Reich 1937 Hindenburg coin to show and tell,”

fuck, someone let in the honey bees, little legs and rose petals flutter around the kitchen tree, the bee-keeper’s neck is full of lumps and cysts, he starts to pull out his lips and uses scissors to slowly cut between his cupid’s bow, the hands of the wall clock burn at a certain turn, loose yellow straw crawls around the walls and loud orange cats yawn for warm milk while white dolphins and muddy crocodiles chew on veal served atop TV dinner tray tables,

“when I was 12 my best friend’s mom was a meth addict, her best friend was her dog named r Kelly,”

nature-born faith is lost as finches and foxes tear each other apart in a floral air of infinite column walkways and yellow-lit flowers, giant red towers break through ceiling tiles so the raccoons can climb up to sing and dance on the skyline, a powerful purple night drowns the world in solemn saturation buzzing with small gnats, blue loneliness and forever-life-madness throws lost minds into the brink of a lakeside shrink,

“when I was 15 I was using gmail to sext with this woman from Europe and then one day she just stopped replying and I never heard from her again,”

match-making spartan soldiers mash triggers in a cloudy monkey temple full of mushroom satellites, sunken heads in radish fields wonder why they’re still alive while their pink bedsheets choke their empty husks with fingers clutching pillow edges, giant jurassic mechas snore soundly in the black holes of mossy caves, electric birds fly under watery bodies to preach words that describe other words to ash-like spirits and ancient gods made of dark stone, the flames of the tall silver pyramid burns trees and burns eager children and burns the master of masters and burns curious otters, beavers damn all to hell while they dam themselves from the horror of crushed skulls, dead space crystals fall down to earth and land somewhere nobody will ever look, statistical sorrows and planned decimations are sown into life,

“the first time I got black out drunk I was 14 and I ran outside of my friend’s house naked while their parents were at the front door just watching me throw up on myself,”

beautiful magic is fake and nothing but the clown and the mime are left to perform the way people live and die under rainbows in the sky, camera shutters blink and cry and it all suddenly clicks – burnt-up flesh and smoked out skin reanimate in a black walnut coffin as worms inch out of dirt-filled eye-sockets that mimic rounding billiard pockets, monsters drugged out on a silver screen platter being drawn feet-first into the snake fires of cremation, sin-red blood cells spill out from the force of a swords cut, pieces of glass are shoved into open royal throats, youthful animal planets are pushed through the almighty wood-chipper,

“when I was 11 my friend dared me to go into the middle of a street and throw a frog in the air, as high as I could; when the frog hit the pavement, its head exploded,”

creation is ripped out of the womb by rubber hands, sex is designed for hard plastic toys, nylon boat anchor lines are tied around my legs, dragging me under as oceanic suicide and pontoon euphoria unite, together as one – pulsating tissue, broken bones, leaking veins, rotting lungs, puss-filled wounds, cracking wrists, twitching limbs, and decaying skin, these are the promises for us, for beings;

“when I was 10 years old, all three of my dogs (adopted from the same litter) developed the same cancer and died within the same year,”

socially afflicted sores speak in a dead language, apocalypse mascots blackout in the digital echoes of blackmail, bi-polarity, lip-stick dysmorphia, and neon brass knuckles, my gums bleed in the dirt for idol crimes, isolated intimacies of blueberries and spoiled grapes fester in the cracks of cobblestone,

“when I was 8 years old my friend would steal his brothers power rangers and make them 69 in front of me.”

You Dropped a Bomb on Me, Baby

“numb lip, tight grip, grinding the fate of branded sin between my teeth;” the woman who works at the downtown ramen shop is wearing black sheer tights under a lime green dress, her hair is bleached blonde, she walks into my apartment and stops in front of me, before I can kiss her I accidentally grab the black protective mask of my Glo-Warm gas heater, I jerk my burned hand back and knock her off balance, she trips over my black floor furnace grate and hits her face on my shoe rack, she yells out: “mother fuck that hurt, where’s my coke, where’s my fucking cocaine god damn it,” she runs into the bathroom, I’m in the kitchen running water over my hand, she dumps her purse guts onto my white oval toilet cover, and from her searching it sounds like she can’t find the coke, my hand is blistering now, she walks over to my couch and asks me to come cuddle her and read the opening paragraph of Lolita over and over again, I ask her why, she looks at me and says: “because a friend of mine was shot twice in the head a year ago today and I just really need this,” so I grab her copy of Lolita and read the opening paragraph, after I repeat the paragraph for the fortieth time I stop and tell her: “did you know that an Italian Lieutenant named Guilio Gavotti was the first person to drop an aerial bombardment from a plane during the Italo-Turkish War on November 1, 1911,” she looks at me confusingly, but I continue: “and, according to Thomas Hippler in his book Governing from the Skies, this moment was a turning point not only for geopolitical positioning, but also for military strategy and political philosophy; the bomb falling from the sky eradicates land-based strategy in favor of air supremacy, the goal now is to reconfigure and bomb the heart of a nation, to collect information, and to instill fear from the heavens, as soldiers and civilians are now equal targets for heavenly gunfire raining down from above,” she replies: “what in the actual fuck are you talking about right now,” I look away embarrassed and decide I need red wine, while im pouring myself a glass I accidentally drop the bottle onto my desk, the red waves wash the printed words off my papers, my books, and my old Rush 40^th anniversary tickets, I ruin the memories of my family and I happily listening to Neil Peart’s exceptional drumming, I hear my friend laughing on the couch behind me, she tells me about the voices in her head, I turn around and look at her laughing up tears, she’s hiccupping a lot while gasping out these panicky explanations about how the voices won’t stop, they’re a constant ringing, I get closer to her and I can tell she really wants to kill herself, I do too, but she wants me to buy the gun and shoot us both in the head at the same time, I say, with my arms up, “but, I’ve never shot a gun before,” she hits my arm for being stupid, I don’t know what will make her happy, I look into her wet blue eyes again and she says “you don’t even know, you have no fucking clue how horrible everything is,” after a minute she finally finds the fir-green skull baggie full of coke tucked into her wallet and she snorts it up with a grin on her face, she takes a deep breath, she gives me a small bump placed on her health insurance card and I spill some on my pants, she yells at me: “you have got to be shitting my dick right now, be careful with my coke you neophyte asshole, jesus christ,” I can’t stop laughing while im snorting foggy sand down my throat, lightning is shooting up my neck, my head is bound in saran wrap, I can taste the grit on my teeth, she looks at me as I’m nervously picking at my dripping nose and says, “I don’t want to feel special, but, you know, fuck, I don’t want to feel like I’m nothing,” I feel the exact same way, I accidently make a joke about eating disorders as we’re deciding if we want to go out to eat or stay on the couch and that comment really pisses her off, I hate myself when I realize what I said, I take the empty bag of blow and put it in my mouth, I suck on the bag slowly while using the edge of my tongue to lick into the seal top, the corners, and the creases, my back molars scrape the plastic down to bits, she collects her things from the bathroom and walks out of my apartment and tells me to go fuck myself, but then she pops her head back in and says “I’ll see you next weekend, text me” and slams the door shut.

Pleasure Intramurals

Mature German Wife with Fat Pussy Fucked Hard
British Babes Farting and Facesitting (Compilation);
Rough Hardcore Anal Gangbang Ft. Emo Asian Slut;
Hairy Big Tit Italian Stepmom Fucks Roma Stepson;
Parisian Maid Wants to Be Your Horny Cum Slut;
Stunning Mexican Babe Loves to Swallow Spanish Jizz;
French Mother Pimps Out Her Algerian Pukeslut Daughter;

Fingernails Ripped in Half, Sliced Eyes Leak Aqueous Humor Fluid;
Wrists Are Pierced and Hung Up by Bent Nails Tied to Ceiling String;
Big Toes Gripped and Ripped Sideways, Halluxes Snapped in Half;
Hammer Cracks Open Patella, Knee Socket Turned Inside Out;
Loose Hair Caught in Escalator Gears, Scalp Stretching, Loud Screaming;
Leather Hands Pry Jaws Open, White Teeth Meet Knife’s Blade;
Asshole Fingering Leads to Anal Prolapse, Gaping Speculum Consequence;
Exposed Scrotum Cut Open, Testicles Fed into Nearby Meat Grinder;

Desperate College Teen Deepthroats Big MILF Girlcock;
Skinny White Dicks Line Up For Small Barbie Bussy;
No Escape From BBW’s Thick, Creamy, Coconut Cunt;
Poolside Orgy: Dolphin Furries Love Blowhole Creampies;
Titty Fucking and Rim Jobs are Better than Doing Taxes;
Fucking His Ass Pussy While He Speedruns Dark Souls;
Nasty Throat Angel – Intense Face Fucking with Biggest BBC;

Helen Keller Uses Her Predator Vision to Stalk Her Next Victim;
Army of Fascist Retards Demand Queen Elizabeth be Hung by the Neck;
I Shave Off My Pubes and Donate them to Bald Kids with Cancer;
VTuber Anime Girl Wants to be Completely Covered in Senpai Poo-Poo;
Spelling Bee Contestants are Kidnapped by Radical Extremists ––
Their Beheading and Torso Explosion Video Goes Viral on Pornhub;

“Suck my fucking dick you faggot, go fucking kill yourself,
no, I don’t give a fuck what you say you retarded bitch,
go out to a pawn shop, buy a gun, some bullets, and kill yourself,
you are fucking garbage, you are a waste of human life,
i have never played this game with someone so clueless
in my entire life, you fucking suck, you’re fucking dumb as fuck,
go jump off a fucking bridge, you are absolute fucking trash,
suck my dick, suck my dick, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,
no, fuck you, FUCK YOU, DIE, FUCK YOU BITCH, FUCK YOU––”

Pat-a-Cake

with full seriousness, the man covered in scabs at the end of the bar announces, “i need someone to come into the bathroom and take a video of me and my buddy doing patty cake with our pants down” — i close my copy of concerning the spiritual in art by wassily kandinsky and look over at this guy and his buddy drinking PBRs and laughing with the barkeep, “people think we’re gay because we wrestle and like to get naked but we’re just bored most of the time, we love to laugh,” the roughed up man says, his quiet friend chimes in “yeah, i mean we just got done doing mini-sword fights in the bathroom, but now we need to be filmed doing patty cake;” unable to resume my reading i move down closer and ask the two guys where they’re from; both of these guys are from detroit, michigan, there’s Kevin the quiet, who only wakes up his expressive personality when he’s had four beers (he’s here for work, he didnt say much about it), and then there’s Pat the construction worker, whose brother is working on a new skyrise project in town, but today he’s hitting the bars and having a fun time with Kevin; Pat talks about how he loves to fight, he’s been in 35 fights total in his life and he’s won 15 of them, apparently he even got into a fight with a guy at a kid’s 1 year birthday party, Pat shows me his hands and how fucked they are from years of fighting and construction — his pinky is set in place like a quarter rest note –– now that I look closer at Pat, his scabs look like recovering nail scratches, these jagged green and red slashes are raining down across his face, chin, and chest covered in tattoos, but his smile emanates brightly from under his weathered facade; Kevin chugs his beer and bring us back to the patty cake thing — “anyways, yeah, so, we’re gunna go to the ladies restroom, pat will sit on the toilet, im gunna sit on the chair nearby, someone is going to film us, and then we’re gunna patty cake,” Pat chimes in “dont worry, you won’t see our balls or anything, unless you want to—” and so, after we come to an agreement, on the promise that i get paid $20, i shake Pat’s hand and we seal the deal that I will be the guy filming their patty cake ritual; during a busy rush of bar folk demanding cocktails, Pat, Kevin, and I exit the bar and skip to the bathroom together, laughing like idiots, “this is gunna be fucking awesome,” Pat says, “my dick is already erect,” Kevin shouts; we get into the bathroom but Pat has to pee, so I give him some privacy while Kevin realizes he left his phone at the bar and rushes back to go get it for me, the newly hired videographer; I wait outside the bathroom while my new friend relieves himself, and soon enough Kevin comes back with the phone and a new beer, then the flush is heard, and now we know its go time; Kevin and Pat go to their positions with their beers and im sprawled on the floor set up against the door to get a good wide shot view of the half-naked patty cake show; the bathroom is dimly lit with a solid peach chrome chair facing a white toilet in the back left corner, a small plant sits in the right corner behind the chair and the hand washing station lingers quietly in the left corner near the door, the back wall next to the toilet and the chair is bottom-half wall and top-half mirror, black paint, jungle wallpaper, a lone plunger, and tissue papers strewn on a cool-toned beehive tile floor all set a particularly perplexing set, not so pornographic, but not necessarily real either; the guys pull down their pants in unison and sit their old, hairy asses on their respective smooth thrones; I get the camera angle just right and the moment arrives where I count down from three and say action while pressing the record button; i point my directing finger at the men and this makes them clink their beers, they cheers all around, take a big chug, and commence with their handy work; i can’t stop laughing so the camera shakes confusingly with the two men embodied in the frame; both guys smack palms and sing out the tune to patty cake, “patty cake, patty cake,” their balls and thighs jiggle on porcelain and metal, they cannot keep the rhythm, I don’t think they know the words to patty cake, but neither of these smiling souls are camera shy, which is nice; sentimental jackass-feelings irrupt in their child-like musings as my befuffled voyeur-like presence gives a material absurdity to the ridiculous situation; after Kevin and Pat finish the routine they turn and give me a thumbs up, and the patty cake show ends with a solemn click; the video is three takes total, 46 seconds in its entirety; I emerge from behind the screen and we all decide to take pictures as a celebratory homage to the tomfoolery; pat and I stand posted up at the bathroom door and we both pull down our pants and then our underwear, we hide our dicks with our shirts but let our ball sacks hang out as a testament to brotherhood, Kevin then takes his phone and snaps a photo, ending the moment with a Hollywood lightning strike; after the guys thank me for my services, we all exit the bathroom and slowly descend into the hallway darkness, closer in spirit and fulfilled with that essence of an ancient, primitive carnival lasting through even the bleakest Armageddon.

Prepubescent Butt Stuff

>be me
>1st grade
>wearing new pair of pants that my mom bought for me at the mall
>dark blue pleated denim jeans
>feelsgoodman.jpeg
>showing off my new jeans to my crush in class
>all my friends are jelly as hell
>bell rings, time for lunch
>it’s sloppy joe day
>didn’t eat breakfast
>eat five sloppy joe sandwiches as quick as I can
>time for recess
>running around the playground playing freeze tag
>chasing my best friend when something shifts around in my gut
>stop dead in my tracks
>sweat starts collecting on my forehead
>hear something coming from my stomach
>a rumbling noise echoes into space
>sounds like a blue whale calling out to his ancestors
>tummy starts cramping up
>realize the sloppy joes are assembling in my large intestines, hardly even digested
>butt cheeks quickly clinch together like an impenetrable stone castle door
>it’s poo-poo time, whether I like it or not
>bell is about to ring, I speed-wobble inside, dodging the teachers in the hall
>slam against the bathroom door and pull myself in
>”that was too close”
>take a deep breath
>reach down to unzip my jeans
>uh-oh
>can’t pull the zipper down
>fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
>tugging at my pants, praying that I don’t ruin my new jeans
>sloppy stool is slamming against my rectum
>feels like a SWAT team’s battering ram is smacking against my asshole
>there’s about to be a shit-tsunami in my underwear
>sigh
>make the walk of shame into the empty handicap stall
>lock the door behind me
>accept my fate
>knowing this will be a traumatic experience, I get on my knees and let my life flash before my eyes while spacing out into the toilet
>I think about the times when I used to go fishing with my dad, when I used to hide from my mom in the hardware store, when I fell out of my crib that one time, yeah, those were the good days
>my anus retracts
>”oh sweet mary and joseph, dear lord in heaven watching his only son jesus christ being nailed to the cross and crucified for my sins, have mercy”
>liquid sloppy joe immediately shoots out of my ass like water from a high-pressure firehose
>my butt cheeks are immediately drenched in a volcanic eruption of molten dookie lava
>never experienced such a force being exorcized from my bowels
>tears streaming down my face
>my tiny boy hole can’t handle this much longer
>little sloppy joe chunks are shooting through my underwear and leaking down into my shoes
>can’t stop thinking about the ass beating I will receive at home
>no one can hear me as I scream into the toilet
>soon the onslaught subsides
>the rapid-fire assault rifle fart sounds and anal leaking come to a halt
>a ceasefire
>allah be praised
>slowly reach for the toilet paper
>all of a sudden, my stomach makes a reloading sound
>”ay dios mío”
>grab the handicap handles and prepare for the secondary shockwave
>before I can black out, chunky doodie shoots down my smooth prepubescent legs
>small turds launch out of my asshole like NASA satellites
>the power of this intense sphincter explosion triggers my flight or fight response
>am suddenly unable to control my bladder
>i’m pissing my pants with unbridled vigor
>pee pee leaks out of my zipper and front pockets, starts mixing into the puddle of diarrhea on the floor
>after all the urine exits, my anal canal closes
>”it’s over, its finally over”
>the sun’s rays enter through the bathroom window
>the birds outside start chirping in unison
>can finally find peace now
>gathering as much toilet paper as I can when the door opens
>look under the stall
>it’s the handicap kid
>areyoufuckingmyshitstainedassrightnow.png
>he rolls in slowly
>hear him sniffing the air
>”what is that smell”
>wheelchair suddenly rolls into the fluid puddle consisting of my secreted butt scat, my willy juice, and my tears
>handicap kid shrieks and projectile vomits into the fluid puddle
>some of the vomit ricochets onto my jeans
>at this point my mind is suspended from my body, I feel absolutely nothing
>handicap kid immediately starts crying, rolls out of the bathroom faster than Dale Earnhardt Jr.
>he tells the teacher what happened
>teacher pokes her head into the bathroom, gags, and then tells me she’s already called my parents
>iwishiwasanabortion.gif
>sit there like a man on death row
>praying for a school shooter to come end it all
>bathroom is guarded by my teacher and the principal until my parents arrive
>mom brings in a new change of clothes
>dad has to use a knife to cut off my jeans
>have to wash myself off in the bathroom sink
>the bathroom is closed off for the entire day
>whole school finds out
>handicap kid starts bullying me now
>”how’s it going, poopypants?”

Fucking Die, Embodied Scum

it’s 2005 and i’m walking along sidewalks fit for stable families and golden retrievers, the wind blows away freshly mowed shards of grass into a nearby drainage ditch, i notice my neighbor friend is sitting on his lawn watching his brother and some older kids building a catapult in their driveway, they’re using store-bought wood and their step-father’s toolkit, I ask my friend “what are they gunna do with that,” and he says “oh you know, maybe launch some frogs across the man-made lake behind our house, probably;” the moving surface of earth is filled with strokes of rocky hills and stormy eyes, we are here on a quest that we can’t remember, but i remember driving in my honda, i can smell your hair floating next to me, highway billboard signs that read “XXX CHRIST’S RETURN CALL NOW” pass by quickly in our peripheral, we end up at some restaurant with a Peacock idol, we go to a museum and stare at Washington’s portrait, and I’m lucky this is still true, because metaphysical holes and electro-magnetic fissures are tearing apart the forms of the few memories of you that still survive, you are a leaf on the edge of fall soon to be stuffed into a bag and lit aflame, the impossibility of a rescue mission demands my constant anxiety, all I can do is kiss all over abraham lincoln’s face and suck in the taste of paint-thinner through my worn out lips; “good god relax, you do not develop breast cancer from getting your nipples pierced, calm down you neurotic whore;” i’m tied to a chair and all I can do is watch Mario fuck Pikachu with a dragon dildo strap on, Lakitu sits on his cloud and livestreams the entire event to people all over the world, and they watch all of the action, from start to finish; my childhood room is full of skulls, animal heads, and an aluminum christmas tree, a color wheel nearby paints primary colors over the cold bones and sky-blue wall paint, it is in this room that i play with formless soul-fated fetish-objects that also linger behind the screen, but at night they materialize and cut my stomach open so that my innards slide out onto the carpet, except for my heart; if only i could drop a nuclear bomb onto the nodes of this ancient network, if only i could take the plug out of the grid and watch people bring violence to this wretched island, if only i could play that online role playing game and cum in 30 seconds with you, if only the world could truly die and give birth to a brand new day