March Guest Posts

Grown poodles


Light in the attic and then burn them and then waste not want not to type anything with a wocker for a sock. Get angry at all the socks in this place and then let them drift down into the ocean as if they hadn’t gotten lost in the first place. And why not she said? Because any old fruit could walk in and take advantage of them? Because an explanation is not what makes the mind go out of wack for repair? No its not all the inhibition or the inspiration from the surrounding world, from the music and the breathing and the crumpling of paper. It’s not just from the daydreams, thoughts sounds acting upon me, day dreams acting upon my toaster straddle for maximum effectiveness when distorted into randomness. No it’s also my rain. My damn brain makes war look like two giant gallant wizards stuck inside a tornado with no way to get out. They twist and turn and shun and burn until it itches so much that you can’t breathe. Is that what tis’ like to melt in a fire enveloping you in a room? Is it painful? Would you climb the fence remanu? Even if total despair and total despair alone lay on the other side? No I would let myself be eaten up by the plants, disregarding a legendary disappearance form this world, disregarding that and instead realizing that I am not a part of the world any longer after I go, and so how I go should not be that important to me. And so I die, and that should be enough.. I need not make it be an epic death. But dying in a fire would be easier than jumping off a gorge or something. Hanging yourself sounds like a good way. Cause once you set it up write and you put it around your neck and you kick away the chair, you’re good to go. So doing that would probably be easier for me than the fence stuff. Although why this subject is on my mind defeats me. I just had an amazing night. There was good sleep too, after. And to be honest I’m not sure how I got on to the topic. So let’s turn it back aground to the poodles, three fo them walking in a line, perfectly wild, untrained untamed, no fame, no shame, they are the ones who I will search after and when they are found I will go on vacation.

Anybody Out There?
If I can tell you something of importance, then choose that easier word. Foreswear a difference while fairytales that compliment
an era usually express brings me back roses row kingdom ashore. The last time I felt this, so long before, I met the the one who
I still adore. Trite and deceitful, she snapped, bit, and clawed. A chest made of metal, puss spewed from her pores; her long face
was dreadful, her mustache was worse. Then all of a sudden a ray of sun burst through the clouds, and shined golden light down,
upon her dear eyes. One at a time my two feet started moving, there in the factory underneath space mountain. Foreshadowed
by railroad vertical kingdoms stretching over the horizon joylessly sat balmy and long-lipped, with electric nights passed phloem
and gases on the wheezy hacking machinery, like my cousin with a propensity towards cats, who plays with herself in the corner
when she thinks she's alone. She had a trustworthy scent, like a dog after a good run around. It appeared from the contours of her
shirt that she was as fulfilled as her age would allow. Years talking with therapists about every kind of flower that grew in his head,
or handcar in his pocket smudged in to a few moments, punctuated only by my calm encroachment on her cheeks of cloven ashes.
It was obvious why only she could give me such a profound hurt. I would never return hence. What did it matter if my looks were
as deserted as a dried up well is deep? I was going to feel integrity, if it was the freest I ever made it.
On the curative power of disease:
Jerk tug chirked my touching fetus. If only for a moment. Go with him. From flight to annual suggestions. Punt survival don't nobody care, while you exhibit signs of abandonment, or perhaps proximate nuclear swiss pushed the weather down. So I come visit away met it hurrying. Fear disingenuous integrated tinges of anguish turbo defense similar illusion but must be serious. More than fine. Symbol of truth, that one day everything must end, and life is all that matters. Remember that it is not they who may banish you from innocence, only he. Though they wanted to know that I could be understood, I was empty inside. All I ever wanted is to be good. A vote of no confidence from the stars and I tearfully stumble through an abyss the likes of which are infinite; glimpses of my past are all that light my way. In galaxies of faces and quasars of recognition, my love weeps as the sun disappears behind a pillow.


Not Based On A True Story



Hi!!!!!"
(She practically lost both her eyes with overwhelming zeal.)

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, that simple hello, birthed from the influx of alcohol that slashed any trace of inhibition surging throughout her blood-bubbling body, was the beginning of a two and a half hour conversation about everything and nothing which, ladies and gentlemen, hurtled her consciousness directly into a spiraling vortex of incarcerated love.

Yes. She was in love.

Like a magnet, her body snapped from starting position up to his own flesh and blood, and she feasted upon the lengths of his knowledge. She feasted upon their similarities and she feasted upon his smile! She was so full by the end of the night that she lugged herself home in a sort of whimsical bloat. She swung on street lights, singing, "I could have daaaanced all niiiight" and she threw pine cones at her friends. She vomited hearts and pulled out all of her hair.

She tore off her clothes and screamed "I'm in love! I'm in love! And I DON'T care who knows it!!!!" Soon she began to care, though, when police men from all angles came darting at her. With a smile the size of Texas pasted onto her face, she ran in manic frenzy away from those love-slashing cops, away from those law enforcing, doughnut-eating scoundrels who thought a girl like her would be easy to catch. She went from a sprint to a skip, every tranquilizing bullet dodged with an effortless spring.

"We're going to need back up!!!!!!!" A cop panted into his walkie-talkie, resting his hands on his knees, bent over, head down, catching his breath taken by the chase. She was relentless, she was. Prancing to and fro on Cupid's potion. That rascal Cupid. Always getting people into ruts.

Soon, she was in a dark alleyway where she encountered a rabid dog. She took one look at it, and turned around. Total buzz kill.

Then, she got Antonio's pizza and had a restful sleep.

END!

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