two Monsters

after tonight
he will never again
doubt that
madness
is ultimately
beautiful
yet
ultimately
not worth it

And her name was
Six

it’s not that weird when you’re
drunk

Though only he was
drunk
while she said she only
accepts energy drinks

They 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 began

and 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 style

Pretty 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
bedroom
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 slide

drunk enough to let a lot
of things slide

Though 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?”

He 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 shrank
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 other

He watched her
mute

watched 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 eyes

It made her
smile so bright
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "two Monsters"!

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Thank you!

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 ground

round
and shiny
under the lamplight

He squats to pick it up
and all enthusiasm
leaves his being

It’s no coin

just bird droppings
in the form of one

He stands
turns around
walks back into the store

and comes out
a bit later
without the sliced bread
and the pack of crackers
but
with a six-pack of beer

We’d all
probably do precisely
the same
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "it's no coin"!

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Thank you!

fellow lover of dark poetry

it was a very
nondescript truck

perfectly blended with
the environment

more building than
machine

it hadn't moved in
over eight years

the tires had melted into
the asphalt

and random weeds started
to grow around them
into the thin layer or dirt and
sand

I must've passed by it
thousands, tens of thousands
of times

paid it no mind

until it was
no longer there

Now 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
name

but 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 truck

some people are
bums by choice

Walking 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 hand

Never 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 it

He 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 neighborhood

I don't know
Don't care

All 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 now

and I too
enjoy dark poetry

Well,
we both
probably enjoy
goodbyes
even more
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "fellow lover of dark poetry"!

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Thank you!

fuel

he comes home in
the evening and
doesn’t
even greet his wife

she seems used to it

just like her husband’s used to
finding nothing to
eat anywhere in
the house

He’s tired and
feels like the whole world
had bullied him for
the past twelve hours

but complaining is
not on the menu

it never was

only a bottle of
wine

his wife brings it

opens it

pours
two glasses

and they start drinking

"Hello dear," he says after
the first sip
and leans in for a kiss

she reciprocates
and life
can finally begin

or continue
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "fuel"!

Check it out HERE!

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Thank you!

I burn her things, man

I've never seen a bathroom
so perfectly empty
before

literally just the toilet
a sink
and a shower-head. No tub
or cabin. Nothing

And a dark brown
irregular circle
captured the eye
from the very core of the room,
on the blue tiles

"That's where I burn
her things," he said

"What things?"

"You wanna see?"

"Nah, I'd rather just listen
to you talk about it."

"I burn her things, man.
Been doing so ever since she left
for the final time.
Every night I sit right there
on the toilet
and drink
and drink
and place a dress or some
stockings or
shoes, panties, whatever's
left in her wardrobe
over there on the ground
and set it on fire.
And watch it burn. And drink.
The window's open. Smoke goes
out
along with all my thoughts
of her.
When things refuse to catch fire
I pour some of her perfume
on them.
It feels good to smell it burning."

"Who was she
really?" I asked. "Wife? Girlfriend?"

"Muse," he said. "When she was
around I could do
my work. But now... all I do is
drink all day and burn her
things and watch them in the
flames. The rest of the time
I just sleep."

I found out later
that he
was talking about his
daughter

She was alive
and fine

living somewhere with
a boyfriend

She even visited from time to
time but
he could no longer see her
as a muse. Only as
a distant friend

Also the clothes he
burned
weren't even hers

he bought them himself
to feed the
delusion

and the delusion
grew too large
and eventually ate him
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "I burn her things, man"!

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Thank you!

dirty window

He awakened at 07:30 in the
morning
and took a few seconds to stare at the
ceiling and decide why
this day too began without a
so called morning wood

Fuck the meaning of life
and whether or not we're alone
in this vast world
He wanted to know why his dick
wouldn't stand up in the morning like
it used to

Perhaps because it had nothing to reach
for
There was nothing to life
anymore
No wife
No girlfriend

...not that they ever existed in the first
place
but at least there was the hope
that one day maybe...

Now
in the late twenties
he felt like a fish outside the water
in a mud that was slowly hardening
around him

This was life

Working night shifts in a cold warehouse
and coming home in the
morning to sleep a few hours

Waking up and listening to another
video detailing the importance of
sleep

You should sleep eight hours a night
every night
Every single night
No exception!
Else you will suffer from severe
chemical imbalances in the brain and
body and will end up
horribly depressed and weak, anemic,
with heart problems that will
eventually lead to a
premature death

But he needed the job

He wasn't qualified for much
else

But hey,
cops and nurses and firefighters
worked night shifts

Well,
maybe
But their work carried so much
more meaning

He sighed as he whipped the thought
away
and stood and got a
cigarette
put it in the corner of his mouth
and lit it

He came before the window

“Look,” she said. “Maybe it’s time to just
leave everything behind
and come join me.”
She grinned at him from inside the
dirty glass of the window

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can still feel it.
The spark. You never know
when it’s gonna burst
into a flame and that
flame
might become–”

“Bullshit!” she said. “You humans are so
pathetic when it comes
to this. Listen to yourself!
Sparks and hope
and sunshine, rainbows. Stop deluding
yourself. You’re twenty-eight already and you
can’t even get it up
thanks to your chronic depression. Look
at your lame self. You’re so
lame you
came to kinda love it even.”

He exhaled smoke. “Well...”

“Well shit,” she snapped. “Listen, boy, I’m offering
you salvation here. Look at me
when I’m talking to you! Look at
my dark face, at my hard tits, look
how long this tongue is. See? I can
fish inside your guts with it.
All you gotta do
is join me. Step into my side of the world
and we can be together. Look,
I’m about to piss.
Come here. Closer. Stand with your face
up and let me shower you with this
small blessing. Give you a taste
of what’s to be
gained by joining me here. C’mon. And don’t
keep that mouth closed, dammit! Stick
your tongue out.”

He finished his cigarette
and tossed the butt
into the
moldy earth of a flowerpot

He went back to sleep
and awakened an hour later

motivated to
start cleaning his room

He started with wiping the
dirty window
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "dirty window"!

Check it out HERE!

https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B09C46RMPS/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=96628550-28a0-4f19-9a78-7717f0614bbd&ref_=ap_rdr

Thank you!

wasted years in a picture

Wasted years

What do they look like?
Can you show in a picture?

He nodded to himself
as he thought
about it

Of course
who other than him to know
what wasted years look like

After 45 years spent inside
a box he was qualified to
judge. And it wasn’t
even prison. It was the office.
Accounting.

45 years

And today...
Today he was the 65-year-old
photographer
who raised the camera before
the mirror and snapped
a selfie
and said
“I am wasted years.”
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Thank you!

thick glass

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pink paint

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good boy, Kyu

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