Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Morbidity, meet Lethe; Lethe, morbidity

Sycophancy planted a cicatrix in my belly
causing my family's pother
and my beauty's growth
in the dug in claws 
of the Ether

Friday, May 4, 2012

Welcome Babies


I’m born silent.

            I take my paste; I use it. I smell it; I let it waft in my nose. I withdraw the glue from my face, loving the sticky residue. Kindergarten is sweeter than nuggets of sugar, sweeter than home. I think its heaven and hell, but find out it isn’t. Punches on the playground coming from Tommy Slater follow paint splashing with my bare-hands. I taste evil and joy.
            I grow up. I go to college. I go to life. It feels good, but mostly like nothing. I fail, and sometimes succeed, but mostly neither of those. I listen to NPR, and write in my spare time. There’s not much to leave behind. I die crying, because someone else begins and ends Kindergarten.  There is more silence and more noise. It goes on forever.