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Foul
You are cannibalsfeeding on the blood of our childrenbaked into a foul and vulgar crust ofignoranceand religion. Wretched goblins, crouched downpeering under skirts and intobathroom stalls, screamingDEVIANTwithout a trace of ironyor self awarenessIf the god you laudtells you that a child deserves to diefor the simple sin of daring to existthen mine(and I am it)should…
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Life Boat Blues
but the truth is, when it’s been a life of synapse hating synapse and of fighting every day to keep myself and stay alive, I don’t have time for mindless reading I’m so sorry I don’t care.
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A Love Letter to Pat Robertson
The lights are on in your great glass house but there’s nothing there to see. Your eyes are glued to the man next door, face pressed against his window in a gruesome caricature, bulging against the panes, lashes wet with lust and your palms nailed tight to the cross you wear like a brace to…
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April Fox 