Sitting here in the basement Nearly three am Alone Building another pulley Out of scraps Left over from a demolished floor Hands ache like the wood From a hundred years of weight It’s nothing Compared to the splinters Perforating my heart Still, I sit here a fool Trying to rub away the flaws Pumice stone wet with knuckle blood If this one turns out perfect It might somehow Lift me up
His head hung low under the pulsating water streaming from the shower. It was just warmer than icy, exactly what he needed to cool down from a day out in the sun and her image sintered into his head. She was just a few feet away, loosely draped in a soft summer dress. The fabric seemed to be her lover. It caressed every feminine curve and sharp detail of her body. Smiling like a razor, she let the sandals fall from her feet sliding back to recline on the bed. Her eyes were bright, almost predatory in the dimly lit hotel room. “See you soon,” drifted slowly...
A Take on the Depersonalization and Desensitized Nature of the Human Asexual Sexual Experience Or Not Long from Now
as the birth of a new year nears a holiday comes like none familiar man pigs celebrate in lustful vigor raw red their beer and latex slaves unpacked from their closet crates fitted with new silicone hymen kits to make them feel like they are still men Conveniently shipped in packs of ten women long ago diverged from male will dress in cloaks of blackened veil standing Under stars they will attack man Pigs who partake in these acts with a blast of feminizing spray sex dolls they will liberate
Been riding it for days This demolition ride Wrecking ball beats Echo down my spine Shattering my thoughts Pounding all the time Now my will is rubble Don’t think I can survive Crushed under the waves It’s the suicide tide
Run away, run away Go ahead and try Run away, run away Nowhere left to hide Run away, run away It’s the end of the line Can’t run away From the suicide tide
On a quicksand beach Buried up to my eyes I can see it coming Swelling up to the sky Raging like...