We All Stayed
We could’ve left.
Just stood up
and kept walking
until the cities blinked out
from lack of eyes.
But we didn’t.
Because the couch is warm.
Because we’re tired.
Because the system’s a lullaby
we hum along to
even when we hate the tune.
I wanted to be angry.
I was.
But I also wanted to see what happened next
in the show,
in the feed,
in the lie I keep
calling normal.
Conviction is heavy.
It doesn’t stream well.
You can’t binge it.
So I set it down.
We all did.
And the world kept spinning
on subscription.
All In a Row
My presence lowered the room’s median age by 30 years. Side-eye glares began once I entered. Judgmental early arrivals, who had separated into their cliques, were suspicious of this newcomer. Just looking to kill some time before reconvening with the bachelor party, I accepted my helot designation by sitting along the perimeter with the other outcasts. The lighting wasn’t ideal. I was in line with an AC vent. Such are the downfalls of the supposed downtrodden.
Settling in, I realized those nearby weren’t exchanging pleasantries to make my acquaintance. Although members of a lesser caste, these strangers weren’t friends I hadn’t met. They were out to gain a higher standing by beating someone on a lower rung. Winning sets you free. Expanding your social circle doesn’t. This was a cutthroat aggregate.
It quickly became apparent who the nobility were: Mrs. S and Reggie. I couldn’t figure out their relationship. Siblings? Married? Working as a team? But all exalted their names and acted interested in their retelling of past wins. Like royalty, the pair held court. Not meaning to, I made eye contact with Mrs. S. Out of politeness, I gave her a deferential nod and grin. She relegated me to being a subordinate by replying with a condescending sneer. Bitch. Game on.
“Everyone ready?” was the only announcement needed for people to affix their concentration. As expected, the action was fast paced. Players remained focused. You’d hear the attempted witty comment randomly interjected by Reggie. Done more to throw off others than for entertainment purposes. The unfortunate ones who were distracted by this maneuver ended up on the wayside.
I kept a low-profile the first few rounds. My strategy was to act obtuse, then strike when the stakes were higher. Reggie had already notched four wins while his femme fatale had six. They were dominating and knew it. However, they didn’t grasp that any congratulatory acknowledgment from the almost rans was insincere.
Once the big jackpot came up, I decided to make my move. I’d bolster the 70% luck and the 25% skill needed with my 5% determination. The first thirty seconds put me behind. My hand barely moved as others’ feverishly bobbed up and down. Then my rally began. G Forty-eight. Need it. B Fifteen. Need it. I Thirty. Need it. And then, as if hearing it slowed down to 33 RPMs: OOOO Sevvvventyyyyy Onnnnnne. Dabbing the blank square with my ink marker, I held my card high and exclaimed “BINGO,” before partially rising from my seat.
With gloating intentions, I scanned for Mrs. S. Her back remained turned to me. She was, no doubt, engaging Reggie in some contemptuous discussion involving “beginner’s luck” or “even a busted clock is right twice a day.” I reveled in the fact Her Highness and Prince Uncharming were temporarily deposed.
Victory was financially sweet and hierarchically advancing. I departed $250 richer. But more importantly, I discarded my status as a bottom rung serf.
Transaction Error
Do these words apply to me?...
Do they reinforce my Weltanschauung?...
If you're not speaking to my existence,
Then I'm not sure I compute...
I won't allow no irritants!...
No dander or ragweeds
To darken my fixed doorway 'cuz
I'm aiming to succeed!...
I've been sleeping with this sentiment
For so very long it hurts!...
My crotch is pencil lead
And pond scum...
It's like fondling my mirror reflection
With a garden hose, and shears...
And no one else is allowed to man the helm
Of the same battleship I steer!...
Fuck me?...No, Fuck You!...
I'll Fuck anything that rhymes
As long as it falls upon specific terms,
Fitted on the dotted line...
It's a complex sort of torture!...
It's a comfort, and a curse!...
When each conversation must be
Advantageous, and each human
Has their price...
"Because I'm worth it...
Oh, I'm worth it!...
I will swear it overnight!..."
"Your not getting dollar one from me!...
I'll only dole out in a raid!..."
When the lights go out and hands
Go on the sneak
That's when I will at last get laid...
But then immediately I'll break down
Like a cash machine on tilt,
Because my password hadn't been
Engaged...
Watch my unfledged petals wilt!...
And my sad nipples deflate...
I'm the midnight pumpkins shell!...
And if you've met me in a line sometime,
Then you're privy to this Hell!...
Do these words apply to me?...
Do they reinforce my Weltanschauung?...
If your not speaking to my existence,
Then I'm not sure I compute...
I won't allow no irritants!...
No dander or ragweeds
To darken my fixed doorway 'cuz
I'm aiming to succeed!...
4/13/25
Bunny Villaire
Edit #3
Desert Mirages
It's hard to explain to those
Who live under the steady gloom
Of piles of information administered
By silver spoons...
Do you hear that whistle calling?...
When you swallow up the slop
From the one-stop Pharmacies
As well as convinced of just which spot
Is best to lean on backs of sages
Who are nothing more then pawns
And stooges of the prison yard
Wearing disguises which rely
On a slavery to subcultures
And an undiscerning eye
That is delighted by the patch or tat
Of your favorite punk rock band,
While behind your back a knife
Slips in, and your transported
To a land
Where conformity is commonplace...
It's all played back day to day!...
Well to you perhaps a trees a tree,
And a stack of money's King,
And most people don't mean anything
If their presence does not bring
The results of which you've grown
So accustomed to, and yearned...
It's so sad out in the desert
Of which a closed mind is concerned...
That these are the only doors you saw
And if you'd stumbled in another
You would see that there are doors beyond...
Doors and still more doors...
But you are hunting definitions
That support your central core
And one lie supports your theory
That you've figured out the scheme...
Do you hear that whistle calling yet?...
...It has turned into a scream...
...Well I'm out of breath expressing
That there's differences unseen
In the way that money's earned
As well as how one passes time...
Because time is far more precious...
It goes down like well aged wine,
And the marksman on your left and right,
As well as the one stationed above
Has got you in their crosshair sights;
So maybe you should learn to love
Your fellow human just a little more,
And aim with kindness to understand
A point of view beyond your token one...
If your interest only lands
In a small exclusive nightclub
There will be a lack of hands
That will lift you up when you have been
Shot down in the dust
In a foreign land or in your own
Brought on by mirages that you trust....
4/13/25
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2
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
