Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I Will Keep the Torch

I could see it
in his eyes.

The forbidden pleasure.

I could smell it
on his penis.

The lotion of lust.

I could not tell you
what I was doing.

I do not
want to recall
the sickness
that spewed out
onto my hands
and into my mind

forever distorting
any promises
of having a normal
sex life.

Now,
they tell me
there is no wrong
or right
and I want to believe
them,
but it seems
impossible.

There must be some
exceptions?

Right?

It appears as though,
I still have
no clue
as to what I am doing.

I have no answers,
but one thing
I do know is,
this torch
will not be
passed on.

It will, however,
burn inside me.

It will burn me
in my grave.

It will burn me
until I see his eyes
again.

Only then
can I tell you
the true meaning
of a horrible
daydream.

Friday, March 15, 2013

The Sprinter

The bathroom was occupied.

He went back
to the bar.

He said
he could wait.

There was no way
I could.

Not after
that
many beers.

When I finished
and flushed
and came back out,
he was running,
sprinting
as if the cops were trying
to murder him.

"Was that your friend?"
asked the bartender.

"I don't like
black people,"
was my response.

I saw the puddle
he left.

His piss
glistened
on the floor
and the bar
and everyone's eyes.

It made the night brighter.

I finished my beer
and decided to send him
a text saying,
well I now know how
you train
for the Olympics
and what it takes

to be a champion.



Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Retribution

We spit on him.

It was cruel.

It was wrong.

We knew it and
didn't care.

He was caught
in our path
of hate
and drunkenness.

We also kicked in
and dented his truck.

What did he do to deserve this?

Nothing.

What did he do in retaliation?

Nothing.

He could have,
should have,
ran us over.

He just drove away.

He's one of my
life long friends.

Still is.

I can't believe
he forgave us.

We most certainly
didn't deserve
any
of his mercy.

I'll forever be in debt to him.

He can return
the hatred
anytime he wants to.

I'll even let him
spit in my mouth
after he's chewed tobacco.

He deserves that much.

So do I.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Maybe I'm Wrong

The playground is full.
The playground is full!
The playground is full!!!

The monkey bars are filled
with monkeys,
lil dark people,
laughing and smiling.

Makes me sick.

Why aren't they picking fruit or
cleaning the toilet I just used?

My dad told me
that's all they're good for
anyways.

Why don't they just leave?

They're making everything filthy
with their dirty lil hands.
They're making everything ugly
with their disgusting faces.
They're ruining everything!

Shit!!

Darn brown fucker
kicked my sand castle!

I'll show him!

I'll poop in his mommy's mouth.
I'll cut his sister
and pee in her boo boo.

On second thought,
maybe I won't.

They might like it.

I have something
much better
planned...

Here he comes,
ugly brown turd,
down the slide,
with a smile that breaks
mirrors.

I'll break something for his!

1,2,3...

Bam!!

My foot caught him
right in his smelly teeth.

Nananananana!!!!

I'll take his teeth too.

"These are mine fucker."

I have a nice souvenir
for daddy.

He ran off,
they wimp...

Daddy and me made a necklace out of them.

It was both of ours' idea
and I look good with them
around my neck
and daddy says
he's proud of me.

Knock, knock.

Who can it be?

hmmmm....

"We've come for your son.
He has our son's teeth.
We want his skin.
It's a fair trade."

Oh no,
they're going to kill me daddy,
mommy,
I want to live,
I won't hurt anyone anymore.

"It's too late boy.
Better make your peace
with your maker,
though I doubt he'll listen."

His huge brown hands touched me,
they didn't feel much different
from daddy's,
maybe I was wrong,
maybe we were all wrong.

Help...