Daydream
and then, maybe, write about it
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FeaturedFACING THE DARK CORNER – New collection of dark poetry
NEW Poetry Collection – FACING THE DARK CORNER
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FeaturedREALITY CHECK – New Collection of Dark Poetry
How can you tell what’s real in reality?
I don’t know. But I can struggle to find out.
Poetry seems like a good place to start. -
don’t have much of an alternative
“I was raised in a strict
Christian home,” he said
as he poured
another glass of whiskey.
“That’s why I turned atheist
right after
I left to be
on my own.”“At 18?” I asked
“Nope. At 24.”
I liked the guy. He was somewhere in
his late fifties
looking forward to pensioningworked as janitor
in an office buildingand the reason they all
called him crazy was that
he swore
he saw someone in the
women’s bathroom
right after closing time
as he went to cleanA female figure standing by
the mirrorshe must’ve been real, he said,
because her presence activated
the sensor lights
in the roomIt was a story I’ve heard
dozens of timesAnd I don’t care how real it is
I believe him
because I want toI want the story to be
realHad he not
had a story like that to share
we wouldn’t have been
friends today“Wanna hear my advice?” I
asked him.
And without him saying anything
I went on. “Don’t quit.
This job… is perfect. Trust me.”“I don’t have much of an
alternative,” he said“Me neither,” I said
-
he who conquers lust
He who conquers lust
will conquer
anything elseMan, what powerful words
and what a powerful time
to remember them, think
about them, reflectIt was 11:30 PM
Closing time at the
grocery storeFew jobs are more suitable
for 58-year-olds with no
education than security guardor that’s what he
used to thinkIt gives one the possibility to
be alone while still
being surrounded by peopledefinitely easier than being
at the cash registersthe cash registers were
hell itselfHe avoided even thinking about it
so instead he
thought about the
words
“He who conquers lust
will conquer anything else.”words spoken by a teacher
back in the day when the problem of
lust was just
beginning to bud out.
Seventh grade that was. What
a timeAt 58 it’s infinitely easier
to defeat lust
than at 14but he could stand proud
for he’d done it at
14 alsoLust has been conquered back
then just as it was
conquered now
and…
what about the second part of
the saying?He who conquers lust will conquer
anything else
now where was that
‘anything else’?Shit…
Outside
in the parking lot
a man said to his kid,
“I said you could get anything,
but not everything.”Fools
both of themthe store had just
closed -
neighbor talk
I believe he was in his
mid thirtieslived with this one-eyed
gray cat
that always sat on his lap
while he
played video games“You should try Diablo 3,” he
once told me.
“Playing that game feels like
gambling.
You never know what item’s gonna
drop and it just gives you
that sweet dopamine release when it
does.
New season starts the day after tomorrow.”I declined
Told him that I had no time for
video games
for I had a job and whatnot
(didn’t go so far as to tell him
that I write in my spare time)I know that he was
married some time agobut it was all neighbor talk
If I am to believe the neighbors
then I’m to believe that
he was married to his
high school teacherShe taught English
and I guess somehow fell
in love with her studentThere wasn’t that much of an
age difference between
them. I’m guessing somewhere
between nine and fifteen yearsBut where we’re from
the problem is not that
some adult seduced her underage
student into becoming her loverthe problem is
that she, the adult, was already
married and had two childrenthe problem is
she had abandoned that
family to be with her
studentAnd I guess
they were together for
a whileMarried as soon as he
came of ageand then lived together
for a few years
and were happyBut her suicide?
I guess I’ll never know
Some stories are better
left untoldAnyway
Diablo 3 turned out
to be quite cool
actually -
two Monsters
after tonight
he will never again
doubt that
madness
is ultimately
beautiful
yet
ultimately
not worth itAnd her name was
Sixit’s not that weird when you’re
drunkThough only he was
drunk
while she said she only
accepts energy drinksThey bought two cans
of Monster
from the vending machine
outside the bar
and when they got to his place
she asked him to put
them in the freezer“But wrap them in a wet
paper towel first,” she
added. “It’s a cool
trick. They’ll be good to drink
in no time.”“I don’t think I could
drink–”
he beganand she interrupted, “They’re
both for me.
But don’t worry
we’ll both benefit from
them.
You’ll see soon enough.”She was pretty much the personification
of the goth stylePretty much the first image
that would come to
any boy’s mind when
told to imagine a
‘big titty goth GF’As they went into the
bathroom
and climbed into bed
he asked again for her
real mane“I done did told you
already, darling. It’s Six.
My name’s Six. And it’s also
very unimportant.”He was drunk enough to
let it slidedrunk enough to let a lot
of things slideThough she would not let him
slide inside her“Not yet,” she said. “We need
those cans of Monster
first.”“What for?”
he asked“You’ll see.
Hehe, like being teased?”Ne watched her
and smiled and nodded“I thought so. You really look
the type. And I really
love teasing. It’s the mildest
form of torture.
Do you like torture?”“Uh… like what?”
“Either giving or receiving.
D’ you like?”“I don’t think o’ that.”
“Then perhaps it’s an
undiscovered detail about you.
Something you haven’t
explored yet. Imagine what a
shame it would be
to go through life without
knowing the absolute heights
of pain and pleasure.
To not know this
is hell.”Again, too drunk
to be having a conversation. He
felt like listening to
someone read him
poetry.
So he just sat back in bed
naked
and watched her
and waited for those damn
cans to cool down in the
freezer“Life is all about the ups
and downs of
the human experience,” she
went on, a dark smile
on her face.
Yet so many people stop in the
middle. What truly wasted lives
they lead.
To never know the extremes
is a sin.
But it’s fine to be sinful. What’s
not fine is to
actively seek to avoid, to
stay away from
the extremes.
If you’re someone like that
then the gods will send you
a teacher, a guide
to show you the way.
I am that.
And I can only lead one follower
at a time, for it is
necessary that I give him my
full, undivided attention.
And all he needs is to
follow along
like a good dog.
That means to walk by my side on
all fours
while I hold him in a tight leash.
He must sit when I tell him
to sit and
look up at the sky when I tell him
to, and open up big
for me to piss into his mouth, spit
into it, put my cigarette
out against his tongue.
Like how it sounds?”“Huh? I ain’t into–”
She was quick to silence
him with one slim finger
against the lips. “Shh. You don’t have to
fight it.
As a human being, this is
simply your true nature. It’s who
you are. Agree or not
your real self wants to touch
the limits. To go into the extremes.
It’s alluring. You can’t resist it.”“I…”
“Look, I want you to lie down
for me. C’mon, on your back.
Lie down. Let me grab this.” She
placed her hand on his penis
and worked on
getting it hard again. “Good. Now
close your eyes. Close them
good for me
and try to relax. Breathe deep.
And accept that now, at this
time and in this place only my voice
exists for you.
You listen to it as it tells you to
imagine.
Imagine you are yourself
but in a world where you have power.
All of it. You can do
and have whatever you want. By
simply asking for it.
Now…
How long d’ you think it’ll take for you
to get bored of
it all and
seek to go higher? Seek to go
into the extremes.
Remember, there are absolutely no
consequences to your actions
and you have anything you ask for.
How long will it take for you
to laugh at those
less fortunate than yourself? How long
until you rub it in their face?
Until you start playing games
with them
to amuse yourself, to relieve
boredom…
Their lives are in your hands.
Would you not command them to
walk on all fours
in your presence? And would you not
starve them to drive them
to desperation and then
feed them your feces? Piss on
them?
Would you not enact your wildest
most depraved fantasies with
them?
They’re your pawns. Make them fight
each other for a piece of
bread. Have them murder their own
children. Eat them. Have
a mother choose between fucking her
own son
or having her limbs removed one
by one. See the desperation in
her eyes
as she’s faced with the choice.
The dying light.
Have them beaten, whipped, suffocated,
cut a thousand times, branded with
the hot iron, raped. Oh, there
can be so much rape.
How do you feel about having a woman
glued to the ground on all fours, stuck
there so she can’t move
and then have a metal pipe inserted
between her legs. A long metal pipe.
Then build a fire to the other
end of it. It’s metal so it’ll
heat up, hehe. And tell her
that she has to make you cum with
her mouth before
the pipe heats up to the point of
melting her insides?
Doesn’t the thought just get
you hard?
But wait. What if she does make you
cum with her mouth
and you just let her
ordeal continue anyway, eh?
Hahahahah!”He went completely soft
and shrinked
despite her hand
trying to achieve the
opposite result“Listen,” he said, “I don’t know
about that…”She brought her hand
to his face
started caressing his
cheek, tried to slide a finger
past his lips, but
he didn’t play to her script
anymore“Oh, darling,” she said, “I see
you have a lot to
learn. But I’m here
for you. There’s nothing you
need to worry about.”He opened his mouth
and she sealed it again
with a finger.“I think the Monsters
are ready. I’ll go
get them.”Indeed
cold as the rest of
the freezer.
Standing before him, she opened
one can and
gulped it down
and then followed with
the otherHe watched her
mutewatched as she then went into
the bathroom
and came out completely
naked, holding only a white
towel that she threw on
the bed
“Lie down and put that
over your face. I’ll piss
on you. Ever been waterboarded
before?”He just looked at her
with the
saddest eyesIt made her
smile so bright -
it’s no coin
coming out of the store
with a
sliced bread and a
small pack of salty crackers
he spots something on
the groundround
and shiny
under the lamplightHe squats to pick it up
and all enthusiasm
leaves his beingIt’s no coin
just bird droppings
in the form of oneHe stands
turns around
walks back into the storeand comes out
a bit later
without the sliced bread
and the pack of crackers
but
with a six-pack of beerWe’d all
probably do precisely
the same -
or is it just luck?
I don’t think this is the
worst type but
it’s certainly up therethe type that only contacts you
when they need something
from yousuch as
to borrow money
or to sell you some
pyramid scheme shitAnd it’s funny to think that he
was by far the
richest guy in our groupat 23 he already had two apartments
One to live in
and one to rent out
and a pretty decent carnow all he’s got it the car
He sleeps in it
and calls from time to time
and asks
“Hey, you ain’t got no
girlfriend, right?”It’s not a way for him to flex
or anythingit’s just his way of asking
whether or not you’d like to
spend some time
with his girlfriendfor a little
sum
of courseYes, it has come to this
It’s probably the destiny of
all hardcore
gamblershave wealth
gamble
win or lose
gamble again until
you eventually lose
borrow money
lose the money
borrow again
win some
but lose some more
and so onuntil you end up
asking random people if they’d
like to sleep with your
girlfriend for some moneyBut I guess the bigger mystery
here
is now in the
hell
is she okay with all that…Seriously
do girls really have something
for gamblers
or is it just luck? -
winter won’t leave already
No color, no sound,
just this grey sky pressing down
on a field that used to be aliveI hate how winter doesn’t shout
It just takes and takes
until the world looks like thisMy boots sink and the silence follows me,
thick and stubbornquiet, empty,
and harder to care about -
fellow lover of dark poetry
it was a very
nondescript truckperfectly blended with
the environmentmore building than
machineit hadn’t moved in
over eight yearsthe tires had melted into
the asphaltand random weeds started
to grow around them
into the thin layer or dirt and
sandI must’ve passed by it
thousands, tens of thousands
of timespaid it no mind
until it was
no longer thereNow where the hell was it?
Did the authorities
finally decide to tow it?And if so
did they know
that truck was somebody’s home?I never learned his
namebut I heard he moved in
there after
the war.
State gave him enough money
to buy a small apartment or
something, but he chose that
old trucksome people are
bums by choiceWalking by
I’d see him in arid summer days
sitting behind the wheel
windows rolled down
a stumpy cigarette between his lips
a small chapbook in his handNever got to see the title
but I do recall
the image on the cover
‘t was a burning tree with one
shadowy, just vaguely human
silhouette hanging from itHe probably wasn’t the kind of man
you’d want to
have in your circles
and perhaps his image dirtied
the overall aura of the neighborhoodI don’t know
Don’t careAll I do know now is that I’ll never
get the chance to
walk up to his truck
and ask him what he’s reading
and show him that I
too have chapbooks of my
own nowand I too
enjoy dark poetryWell,
we both
probably enjoy
goodbyes
even more -
fuel
he comes home in
the evening and
doesn’t
even greet his wifeshe seems used to it
just like her husband’s used to
finding nothing to
eat anywhere in
the houseHe’s tired and
feels like the whole world
had bullied him for
the past twelve hoursbut complaining is
not on the menuit never was
only a bottle of
winehis wife brings it
opens it
pours
two glassesand they start drinking
“Hello dear,” he says after
the first sip
and leans in for a kissshe reciprocates
and life
can finally beginor continue
-
kid at the back of the class
he’s the one sitting
in the back of the classwondering what it
would be like to
have the power to cause
someone to instantly
burst into flamesit makes him happy
for a whileIt’s a way to channel the
inner ragemeanwhile his
grades are suffering
and the situation at home
isn’t betterbut he’s past the point of
caring about any
of thoseThe meaning of life is to
exist as little
as possible in what the others
call reality
and get lost as much as
possible in one’s selfHe’s good at it
so
for all we know
he’s living the life
of his dreamsProbably gonna start writing
in a few yearsHis kind usually does
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Daydreaming as a profession 
Happiness comes two ways , my father taught me, BY faith, and Hard Work, enjoyed your writings.
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Thank you (^_^)
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I believe there may be a few philosophers left. Their voices may have been drowned in the multiple seas of social media but I think poets are somewhat philosophers, They dream and think outside the box. Thanks for stopping by Poemattic.
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Hope things are cool and hot DR., I’m a bit curious, I was looking over your work, and wonder if you do any strip writing ? I ‘m working on a book that will be a finish play. I don’t want it to get to much graphic dialog but need the iron words to push these concepts. Any suggestions. Like instead of B, or F, MF, I thought Bush Wet, Funk n Fish, Mold Food, well if you get a minute, Thanks.
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Hey hello, so nice meeting you! I saw you liked my post on trees, thank you so much!
Lovely poetry by the way!
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ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ
I thank you
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When I initially commented I clicked the “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox and now each time a comment is added I get several e-mails with the same comment. Is there any way you can remove me from that service? Appreciate it!
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I am a little confused about your logic?
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Sure.. as an idea-unfortunately doomed to fail in practice, never mind eh?
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NvGaiprOcdbI
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uZyxIhpBWE
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hi this is a awesome website that you have thanks for sharing it with the world.
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hi this is a great site that you have thanks for sharing it with the human race.
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hi this is a awesome site that you have thanks for sharing it with the world.
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found you thank god
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you think he’d buy me mozzarella sticks
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you think so image
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Brantley
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Bellissimo lavoro,bravo continua cosi!!
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Very interesting site. Visually, on all fronts. Nice. “They” just posted a thing saying we aren’t real–just players in some virtual reality game. I have always done a lot of daydreaming and writing, but not much poetry. Looking forward to reading your work. Might get me back at mine…
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God, I LOVE “Fasting for Muses.”
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٩( ^ᴗ^ )۶
Thanks!
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Hello Bogdan,
You liked one of my Umbriate posts so I thought I’d drop in. Intriguing writing. Reading through your poetry I find…well, not sure how to put it–it resonates is the best thing that comes to mind. Glad I dropped by and will be returning. Thank you.
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Thank you very much for stopping by, Eric!
I’ll check some more of your stuff as well.
Subscribed 🙂
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