mother forbade feeding the poor thing

there was a dog outside and it kept
barking for some reason
Ah yes, it was chained
and the chain was terribly short
and the poor animal was hungry

Mother wouldn’t bother feeding it
No, mother wanted it
to die
because it had been father’s dog,
inherited along with the
house after father died

Mother forbade feeding the
poor thing

Her child stood next to the window
and listened to the poor
thing barking outside

It was better than listening to
mother drinking and
talking ugly words with her
boyfriends

He opened the
window
and the dog saw him immediately and
barked at him

He wanted to cry
Tried talking to the creature
but it wouldn’t listen. It kept barking

“Mother would cut my hand off
if she caught me
stealing food for you.”

But he was
a smart kid

He leaned over the window
and thrust two fingers
down his throat and
vomited before the dog

It was just close enough for
the tortured soul
to reach with its tongue
and that’s what it did

and the barking stopped

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a spiderweb full of butterflies, shaking in the wind

she stretched on the bed
and reached with
her long leg
and placed her foot on his desk
before him
on the notebook he was writing in

“Wow,” she said. “Your place is so small,
like a box of matches. And so
empty. So lonely. Why don’t
you ever have
anyone over? I never see or hear you
talking to people. Why
must you be like that?”

“I don’t like people,” he
said

"Why?"

“Don’t ask silly questions. For the
same reason I don’t like
hotdogs. I just don’t
like them.”

“Do you like me?” she asked

“I don’t know,” he said

“Would you like me to leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know a lot of things, boy. I came
to you because… I wanted to
have a place from which I’d be missed
if I left. I thought the heart of
someone as lonely as you would
be that special place for me.
Turns out
you’re not lonely at all. You’re just
alone.”

“I guess,” he said

She removed her foot from his notebook
and turned
facing the wall
and began to sob

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he said. “I might
not be missing you if you go,
but…”

“But what!?”

“Well, you still remain my least detestable
hallucination. I like your
legs, with all their ten joints. I like
your crimson eyes, all eight of them. Your
fangs, your horns, the scaled wings, everything.
I really think you’re…”

“Yeah? You think I’m what?”

“You’re… what I need in my life
right now. So don’t leave
just yet, okay?”

“Hah! I knew you love me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Shut up, you don’t know it yet. But you
love me. Come to bed, you silly
oaf! Let’s sleep
and dream together. Something colorful,
vibrant. A spider web full
of butterflies. Shaking in the wind. Come.”

He closed his notebook
and went
to bed

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Making poetry more bearable to look at


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empaths

these days a lot of
people call
themselves
empaths

They claim to be able
to feel what
other people
are feeling
and suffer with them

"I cheated on my boyfriend
with his brother," some
girl said,
“and being the empath
that I am
I started crying along
with him when he
found out. It's hard
being such
an empath."

And there was
the guy
who got into a bar
brawl and
knocked another guy's
teeth out
and held a hand to his
own mouth and made
pain noises

I guess he
was an empath too

If you have a
social media account
and don't describe yourself
as an empath
people will think you're some
kind of monster,
a psychopath, they'll compare
you with Hitler

Yeah, it's a good
reason not
to use social media

If you actually
needed another

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ice

Ice

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making it big in a small world

other than
weirded
the fuck out
she didn’t know how
to feel about it

so she read the
words again

SO GLAD TO SEE YOU
ALIVE AND FINE,
LOVE!
ALWAYS KNEW MY DAUGHTER
WILL MAKE IT BIG IN
THIS SMALL WORLD.
LOVE,
DADDY

The words were written
with a black marker
on a $100 bill
that someone threw at
her in the
club
while she was
stripping on the pole

Could’ve been a shitty
prank
but $100 was a bit
too much to spend
for laughs

She tried to
remember the
faces of all the men
who gathered around
her and howled
as she did her number
but they were
simply too many
and too bland

Later that night
she asked the
management to remove
private lap dances
from her list of
services for a while
and
the request was denied

Well, when you make
it big
in a small world
you either carry the
weight of fame
on your shoulders or
get crushed

At least the
money bought a good
dinner for
her little daughter
and the two cats

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ultimate art


(づ ◕‿◕ )づ Many thanks for featuring my poem, Arania! 

the female assassin


the ashtray was looking more
and more
like a sick hedgehog

and her yellowed fingers
added one more quill to it

she sat back in her chair

work wasn't in the best of stages lately and
her office looked like a junkie's
trailer. You could
scrape the nicotine
off the walls. In fact, she
would get nicotine under her nails if she
just scratched her skin
anywhere

But otherwise she was
a beauty
and that was a problem. Beautiful
women have the worst
luck in marriages

The husband left and the two girls went
with him
They were sick and tired of her
habit to consume more cigarette smoke than
oxygen

And drinking was also a problem
though not nearly
as big

The worst drinking has ever done to her
was to make her lose
the driving license which she never
bothered to take back

The real problem was,
as always,
a lack of money. If the damn phone didn't
ring soon
she would have to kill someone
for a pack of cigarettes

Assuming she could still
kill
someone with her body rotting from the
inside. She was fine with
breast cancer
but now lung cancer joined too
and it was by far nastier

Still
that was all right
It doesn't take a healthy body to pull
a trigger

And speaking of triggers
She opened a drawer in her desk
took out the gun
studied it

Not loaded

She browsed through the drawer

Only one bullet left. One single bullet.
These things cost money
too

Damn it

But it's like they said back in
the mercenary camp
The last bullet is always preserved to be
used on the self

She loaded the bullet into the
gun

A life lived well is one
lived without regrets and without
ever asking for mercy
or feeling sorry for yourself

At 39
she had that. There was nothing
else to be taken
away from it

She put the gun to her
temple

Smiled

"Except for a final smoke."

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A king in his castle



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king who would go down with honor


he had no shoes
and you could hardly call
his shirt a shirt
but he
sat between those two
trash cans like some king
on his throne

holding to a stick
like a scepter

He drank from an old
rusty can of
beans
but held it like some golden
goblet

Clearly he lost the
ability to
taste because in the can
he mixed all he could
find in the trash

Beer with vodka
with tequila with wine
and acetone
and rubbing alcohol

He had a fearsome guardian
about him
A white dog who constantly
licked his vomit from
the ground

It looked black
and spongy
like coffee grounds

Some passersby offered to help him
and he refused

This was a king who
would go down with honor
after he lost
his kingdom

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