she lived alone and didn’t do much around
the house

Ate TV dinners all day
and drank
and complained that she couldn’t sleep
at night

Had a pretty nasty case of
insomnia

What can you expect from a girl with
snow-white hair
and coal-black eyebrows?
some had said

Obviously they weren’t referring to
her insomnia
but her other mental issues
like being bipolar and depressed and
other such things

You could try to sleep with her and
the sex would be quick
and then you’d have to spend the rest of the
night listening to her
talk about recycling being actually
harmful for the environment

«Seriously,» she’d say. «People need to understand that
the stuff just gets shipped overseas
to third world countries
where it’s burned or dissolved in chemicals to
extract precious metals from it. That’s
how it works. And it’s harmful
for nature, harmful for everything and
everyone. People have no
awareness. They’re all so
damn selfish, it’s ridiculous.»

The last guy who fell asleep during
her speech
had his foreskin folded and
stapled shut

«Hit me!» she urged him. «Choke me
or fuck me up
but don’t you dare
ignore me again!»

Somehow she
never ran out of boyfriends

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "snow-white hair and coal-black eyebrows"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

if you grew up
in the
countryside
you know the game

You find the biggest
boulder
you can turn over
and you turn it over
and discover
an entire world underneath

pale
alien plants
and critters, maggots,
worms, mice
or even small reptiles

I loved that
game

Kept playing it
until I no longer liked
what I discovered
under the boulders

It was dead

and it was just rotten
fur and bone and teeth

Fragile like burnt
paper
in the wind

A kitten

and no answer to the
question «why?»

They just told me, «An’ what
would you have fed it?
Your guts?
Go play somewhere else.»

I did
for what else could
I have done?

besides crying

Since then
I no longer play the boulder
turning game

or any other game

I’m afraid life will find
a way to
suck the fun out
of it again 

Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "boulder turning game"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

it was her dog that had to be
put down
not his
He only saw the good boy for the past
two weeks or so

Yet it was him who couldn’t
get it up
in bed because thoughts of the
departed good boy wouldn’t
let go of
his mind

“I’m sorry,” he told her, hands
covering his face
in shame. “I just can’t.
I... I feel we should dedicate this day
to mourning, you know?”

“What?”

“Babe, you know how much I love
dogs. The death of
one... It, it just kills me, you know?”

She looked around for
her panties. “Well, babe, I start to think
you love ‘em dogs more than
you love me, really.”

“Wah? How can you...?”

“Well, I mean, if you didn’t
you’d want to comfort me in this time
of need. It’s what I want, what
I need to cope with the loss. But you’re
not thinking about that, are you? No,
all you’re thinking about is
the dog. It wasn’t even
your dog. You didn’t grow up
with it, damn you!”

They hugged each other and
cried on each other’s shoulder. Cried for
the rest of the night

A few days later
she came into the bedroom wearing
a furry dog-themed outfit
with ears and all
Same color as the one who had been put down

He got it up, alright

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "not your dog"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!