Powerful, beautiful, moving and thought provoking even to a full mind like mine which usually misses the nuances of sexism in our daily cultural interplay. Great piece from a talented writer. #whisperandtheroar #kellyglover
Detest me. Prevent me. Direct me. Understand this isn’t because I love the control, tt’s because I’m comfortable under thumb. Glassed over with your capable patrols, I dream of places where you can’t come. Starken my blistered eyelids into black, soothing my hopeless windows into life. Border my shutters with metal as a rack, twist out the snips and set them on my strife. I’d adore you in a thousand ways, until the sun melted skin to butter. I”ll adore you for a million days, until you burn my offerings for another. Supplant me. Scrub me. Deviate me. A love song played on sickly notes, I’d choke the lies out as they die in my throat. Play fragrant music that offends the nerves, disturb the inoculated innocence I sought to preserve. Wrap on tightly around the collar, building up bricks laid as cannon fodder. Sing back the rhymes I hope will carry through, but it’s all waste and wasteland even to you. Describe me. Vilify me. Sharpen me. A knife edge on razors surface, culls back the meat so plentiful with purpose. Strips back the layers of beautiful sin, exposes righteously the soul within. Expounding virtuous betrayals, never to be found despite the trails. Leave me. Spit me. Vomit me. I was never what was good for you, and now I’ll live marred forever, lost in this lonely zoo.
Dystopian cartwheels in the caterwauling life we lead staring constantly at the satisfaction all around. Bitching occasionally to satisfy unmet desires that we struggle to attain even at unreasonable cost. The hunt for happiness overwhelms the basics and sometimes its worth it whatever the price. Disciples of a daily rut where we stay stuck and mired deeply in the mud of a situation not planned for. In the moments of joy where our desire for completion coincides with our faithful love and devotion, we find a peace despite the discord that is without compare. In the moments where we falter under the weight surviving as only survivors can and are willing to do, we have to remember the strength we share to stumble on. Nothing becomes the norm and requests for aid cut as a degrading act that dehumanizes us further. Outlasting the shame of each failure and the disgust it brings resolutely waking each morning to the grim gray of sameness. As upper class homeless we are on the outskirts, enjoying luxuries like cold running water and a toilet, that the rest of goddamn society imagines are god given. Fear that the envy of our possessions will lead to thievery leads us to close the door and have knives on hand. Eating another can of soup in mid-summer heat because the soup kitchens provide cans and bread regularly and its too goddamn expensive to purchase a real meal. Endlessly pretending that things will just fix themselves because the reality of work necessary to get out of this situation is beyond daunting, it’s easier to capitulate and get high. Holding tight to special items because they are memories encapsulated in the fur of a stuffed animal or favorite shirt. When you’ve lost it all so many times before the littlest things can have such an enormous significance you might even indulge in a treasure box for safe keeping. Solid week long stretches without bathing because the $7 per person to shower at the truck stop can’t be found. People look at you with mixed contempt and confusion because if you dress nicely and present well it defies logic that you should be in such a predicament. Putting on makeup diligently just to feel pretty for a moment scrape the grunge of sweat stained skin stickily from your body. Oh yes, there is freedom to be found if you chose to indulge and let the wash of illicit and irregular activities become your home. A beer and some vodka to wash down the weather and heat along with the anxious discord of stress over the unknown of tomorrow. A shot or a bowl of glass to provide focused determination the confidence to strive for success into the oncoming crush or an opportunity to zone out and lose days at a time without emotion. Some black tar to sleep peacefully and stay dazed no thought and no fear, no nothing at all because you’ve gone dead inside. Its a slide down into a pit of needles and loss where the bottom can always fall out and take you lower, lower than you ever imagined possible in such insidious ways. Bravo to those that soldier their way out of the muck find themselves a spot of sanity and personal identity allow themselves the grace of overcoming through grit. Fucking monsters of life having been torn through the gutter when they stand proud and defiant despite their obstacles applaud those hard mother fuckers that didn’t give in, defied all the odds and managed to rejoin the world on their own terms.
A personal inspiration/muse of mine is Old Punk with RamJet Poetry and an editor at Sudden Denouement. His work is often raw as hell with a clear demand for the words to be spewed, there’s emotion behind them. I’d encourage you to check his work out and give him some richly deserved love.
First writing piece for Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. Ever wondered what it’s like to be a street running addict for single day, hello then. Cheers and thank you for the support you amazing mother fuckers, sincerely. – S
The sun is a hornet sting in his eyes but his stagger started with that twisted sauce that dude hit him with at the coffee shop bathroom where he screwed Suzie in retribution against Samantha. The pain of that loss was still so fresh.
Empty and meaningless body contortions while staring at the underside of a piss stained toilet. Should have stayed home that day too. She wanted someone to love her, that’s why she shook when you hugged her, apologized when she climaxed and asked for more.
Two steps and a jerk of the muscles sends him down the sidewalk. Two more and the convulsions are there again in force, arms spasm outstretched and fingers go clenching at air trying smash it’s emptiness into something meaningful. Two more and the blood trails seeping from forearms that stink of vinegar and…
Wiggling brain worms of love cross each other on withering paths, laying out siege plans and more, demanding the mind bow and be labeled a whore. Tussling tatters of titrated remains, their infection spreads softly but fierce is the pain. When all is lost to the annals of memory (that malleable stuff made of thoughts stuck in entropy), we’ll know not the beginning, seek to suss out the end. But by that point the parasites will be dug in, they’ve rewired the hardware, unfucked the program and rewritten the codes. Their beautifully at odds with all we call real, if God were a worm I might be filled with more zeal. A zest for the unknown where dreams can take flight, even a place to call home in the bitterest of nights. But, here I sit. Obliterated identity left off as a stain to be cleaned by the new host who’d prefer I be insane.
Thrilled to officially be part of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective – if you haven’t seen their work before please check them out. A fantastic and wonderfully deviant group of artists that I feel truly privileged to be brought in on.