The broken hearted Octopus asked, "Why are you leaving me darling? I supported your writing, I lent an arm whenever you needed one and I loved you dearly."
His lover responded "I was only using you for your ink. Don't worry, there are plenty of fish in the sea."
Lyla and Ned,
although very dead,
had a love time could not defeat,
they lived a full life,
as husband and wife,
until their time on this earth was complete,
when they awoke,
they were heartbroke,
to find neither at the other's side,
and so they lurched,
and quietly searched,
for where the other, in death, might abide,
then one day,
Lyla walked Ned's way,
and they began to run as they grasped,
at one another,
each at the other,
and their boney, little hands did clasp,
their pale lips met,
and they couldn't forget,
their long life and the love that...
“There aren’t many people here. Do you feel weird? I feel weird. There are like five people here.”
“That’s his wife!? She’s almost 80. Wow, he was a sugar baby.”
“You know, young, talentless people who use their good looks to use old people for money.”
“Do they have to perform sex with them?”
“Perform sex? You talk like an idiot sometimes. Yes, they have to “perform” sex with them.”
“That’s disgusting. Also, he wasn’t very attractive.”
“Yeah, but neither is she. Did she just say “Christopher”? Was that his real name?”
“I didn’t think...
It’s 105 degrees in this town but it might as well be 350. I’m suffocating in a confectioner’s oven full of dried out skeletons and evaporating dreams. My clock reads 5:30, meaning my shift ended 30 minutes ago but the next girl isn’t here and I’m the only decent employee in the place. A man smiles at me and asks how my day is going. “Wonderful, making coffee is my life calling,” I reply. He gives an awkward laugh and heads towards the creams and sugars. I motion my hands as if I’m shooting myself in the head and then point the fake...
Ashamed of ourselves, we took our memories and buried them beneath our chests. But the burden of our indiscretions was more than our stomachs could digest. Now we’re throwing up secrets and repenting of our wretched ways. The stench of our misguided acts has followed us for days. We were afraid the world would banish us or bury us in the ground, but from our shameful actions the unexpected was found. Instead of torturing us for the way we chose to live, they’ve given us a feast and a new word called “forgive”. We never thought our...
I’m a lover magnetic,
An eccentric romantic,
Burn you electric,
I’m a violent igniter
A vehement writer,
Light you up brighter.
You're my favorite thing,
Lying under the sheets,
but it's a temporary high,
So the pattern repeats.
Buried inside us are cast iron veins. We’re mechanical men who enjoy our disdain. Our mouths are filled with spit but our eyes have run dry. Our hearts are filled with grit but our souls are starting to die. The only way we’ve ever known to live is alone, feeding off of cutting men down to the bone. Our faces are filled with fine lines and our youths starting to fade. This sun always beats upon us and we sure could use some shade.
The world made us tough but it didn’t make us strong. We’ve been roaming ‘round this desert and it seems...
My bones are cold,
The sea got a hold,
And swept my soul with the tide,
My story’s long,
A sailors sweet song,
Of a girl who became the seas bride,
Beware my child,
The world is quite wild,
There’s many a men who’ve been torn,
But rest your head,
The devil is dead,
And he won’t rise again til the morn,
Rest, gentle sleeper,
The devil’s asleep down below,
Drink your fill,
Whiskey will heal,
Any sorrow your homesick heart knows,
When sun does rise,
A clever disguise,
For her light is a curse to your gaze,
The gulls will guide,
Your life on the tide,