Crave
Hello, my shadow. I know you want to be dark, and deep, but you can't help laughing—inappropriately. A case of the giggles in the middle of a biopsy. Or you're on a train, and dreaming of that girl with canine teeth. Which always turns you on. Something so wicked, so primal. So ancestral. You let out a laugh, as the other passengers pretend not to notice. In a distant past you'd be swinging through trees together, jumping to the ground, and leaping into a fuck. You'd push her down and suck tongues through your canines. Maybe it's because you've got 'em too, that girls with canines turn you on so much. Yeah, we're not so different, you and me. We both like that. Even when the moon's not full.
4/11/2025
soft and airy
you deserve her
you don't know who she is yet
she hasn't walked into your life yet
at least you won't think so
fate is uncertain, a path of mysteries that develop perfectly
each strangely shaped seemingly random piece
falling into place oh-so exquisitely
she's caring
proud to be yours
ultra-intuitive
never hurts your feelings
funny, sure, but thinks you're the most hilarious thing to walk the earth
tells you everything
and you remember all of it
talks but she's okay with silence
you like silence
you find it comforting
whether she's like you or completely different is still yet to be discovered
left up in the air
she speaks quietly when she's serious
uses her head
she looks at you like a muse
she inspires you to wake up every morning
she's cool with being cringe
you like slow-burn
best friends slowly developing feelings
calling all night
the way your legs touch and she doesn't pull away
the way her hand rests in the crook of your elbow
the way she runs to you first
both of you with secret knowing smiles on your faces
knowing you've found your person
realizing you can tell her
both with a secret
but when you call to confess
she says
'i like you too'
or maybe she calls
gives you a gushing explanation
everything she loves about you
the way you always notice when someone's down
the way you care enough to know the smallest details
the way you aren't ever embarrassed of yourself or your ideas
the way you don't pretend, ever
and you say
'finally'
she will appear only when the time is right
life creates destiny when ready
and promise you
she'll be there waiting for you
battle scars
Son
Walks in with herpes sores genuinely taking over his lips to the point it seems like an Alien has won the battle with his immune system
From her knees and hands Mom looked up at him for an answer
"You think this is bad Ma you should see the other fella!"
Ma "Did you?!"
Son look up in thought and this action opened up a sore that had enough puss to have the mom propel back from the vomits recoil
Father "Reminds me of my time in the service" flashes back to being a Navy Corpsmen and asking what the hell happened to a crawling Marine with only body from his ass cheeks upward (with boots somehow being dragged)
"Oh this? You should see the other guy." His laughter powered him through, laughs of a puddle manmade, with only a Kevlar to give a hint of what once was the pink chunky puddle steaming beneath it
Marine: "I passed him and for the last time I decided to crop dust him and since my situation down there is less than ideal I fully shit out a gurgle that I swear caused that puddle to laugh up a little and I think that was Johnson finally admitting he may he owed a purple heart."
Corpsmen: "Yeah that's some real friendly fire you must've caused based on how much is still dusting right now."
Marine "those boots are full of Johnson by the way doc, he said you better have a better remedy this time than to just change his socks."
Corpsmen "Full of johnson you say? I'll put one of those on ice for you so you're not fully G.I. joe back home"
Marine "Guess I could use that shrink ray device they tested on base and once you're my 1 semen you just gotta hope I change my socks that next lights out."
The Sealed Envelope
It’s kind of messed up—the idea that you could be world-class at something, truly built for it, and never even get close. Not because you didn’t work hard. Not because you gave up. But because no one ever pointed you in that direction. No one said look here. Or maybe they did, but you were too busy surviving to notice. Too busy doing what you were told was practical, responsible, realistic.
That’s what gets me. How much of life is just... being angled. Shaped by parents, teachers, systems, money, fear. Most of the time, you’re not choosing—you’re reacting. Following the path of least resistance. Or the one with the least judgment. And if you’re lucky, that path intersects with your talent. But for a lot of people? It doesn’t. Not even close.
So maybe you’re carrying this sealed envelope inside you. And maybe it has the name of the thing you’d be incredible at. But you’ll probably never open it. Because no one told you it existed. Or they buried it under bills, expectations, and social pressure. Or worse—they told you to be grateful for the path you did get. That wanting more was selfish. That dreaming differently was naive.
And here’s the kicker: you could live your whole life doing “fine.” Competent. Decent. Even successful—by someone else’s definition. And still miss the thing. That real thing. The one that lights you up. The one that makes you not just live but burn.
But most people don’t burn. They simmer. Quietly. Contained.
Because the world is better at building fences than handing out matches.
People say the mystery is beautiful. And maybe it is. On some days, I believe that.
On others, it feels like a consolation. A way to forgive the system for failing you—or yourself, for never getting the chance.
So yeah. I think about that envelope. And I wonder:
Am I supposed to be okay with never opening it? Just keep walking with it sealed inside me, like a joke I’m not allowed to hear?
I don’t know. Some days, that question is heavier than others.
Erectile Disfunction and the Danbury Mint
Perusing that abyss known as Gmail, I find myself deleting a lot of digital flotsam and jetsam that is about as useful to me as a condom dispenser in a convent. Still, I have to admit, some of these garbage emails make me think. For example:
There is an amazing number of products out there for those who suffer from erectile disfunction. The pills, lotions, drinks, and even gummies (keep out of reach of children) that're advertised are guaranteed to hoist even the limpest of meat main sails. Personally, I don't suffer from the condition, but that's nothing to brag about because a light switch that can stay flipped up for 2 minutes is no big deal. "Delete"
Apparently, there are hundreds of single Asian, Russian, and women over the age of 40 who're eager to date me. Let me be clear on two things. First, I'm happily married. Second, any woman who's eager to date me is probably clinically insane and a possessor and practiced user of the Lorena Bobbitt cutlery set. So, no thank you. "Delete"
An urgent correspondence from a politician is being sent to me because the members of the opposing party are out to ruin America. Of course, said politician wants my help in the form of a donation and my vote to aid them in their quest to save America. Personally, I think all politicians be they donkey or elephant are responsible for the massive lube-free cluster fuck that has become our country. So, expecting a politician to fix our nation's issues is like asking a clan of hyenas to save a wounded gazelle. "Delete"
For a limited time, the Danbury Mint is proudly offering hand-painted collector plates that commemorate Elvis' slow transformation from svelte child sexual predator to the fat. white jumpsuit wearing, mutton chopped, Vegas performing hack he died as for just 3 easy payments of $19.99 per plate. Each month, I will receive a new beautifully painted porcelain plate along with a certificate of authenticity that visually chronicles the physical transformation caused by Elvis' steady diet of Quaaludes and fried peanut butter and nanna samiches. These magnificently created plates will surely increase in value and are so realistic Elvis' cellulite and that famous double chin will slowly appear beneath his greasy mutton-chopped gob with each new addition to my collection. But this offer won't last forever and if I act now I will also receive a replica of the check Elvis signed that bribed his bride, Priscilla's parents into not having him arrested for having an illegal sexual relationship with their 14 year old daughter. "Delete"
I am missing out on securing a mortgage in my area of California at the current 5.2% interest rate. With just such a mortgage, I could finance a desirable1-room shack located near running water on enough land to dig a his and her outhouse for the low-low asking price of $500,000. "Delete"
Amazon is hiring delivery drivers. The pay starts at $20/hour and you will receive medical and dental on the first day while receiving training in how to heave packages marked, "Fragile" like an Olympic shot putter more that 15 yards to land somewhere near the (hopefully correct) customer's front door. "Delete."
Of course, this is just a small sample of the useless drivel that lands in my email. However, I can't complain too much, because after all, a lot of what I write that ends up on the internet probably also deserves a...."Delete"
Ancestors
Every time I see something about ancestors being proud of you, about you being their gift to the future I think this:
No, I'm their abomination, the child they never wished to be, the end of the world as they knew it, I am queer and the fact that me, that, originated from them, makes them roll in their graves and I love it. I have learned to feed off their despair and discontent, turning it to love instead of desperation. I use this knowledge to love those like me: the abominations of this world that only ever wanted a home.
I remember this and I keep walking, I keep loving, I hoping hoping out of spite. I keep trying to make this world a better place as revenge. It spurs from anger. My ancestors were colonizers and I have dedicated my life to undoing everything they ever did. I hope they feel worthless and unloved. I hope they watch their own culture of domination disapear, just as they did to so many others. I hope they watch, as I, their descendent, do what they never could, and turn their dreams of a new world into a pile of ash.