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19. Featuring: Lara Konesky

Including:

 

Fiona Curran: London, UK + Gloriane: California, USA + John A. Grochalski: Brooklyn, USA + Jack Ohms: Finland + Ian C Smith: Calulu, Australia + Esther de Vries: Switzerland + A D Winans: San Fransisco, USA

 

In the Woods

 

he’s such a pretty man

with pretty moods

i like to wait for him

in an un-interrupted jungle

of crass and kink

to see if we can fuck our way out

though sometimes

he doesn’t show up at all.

 

and i sit, and imagine

if he has thought about me,

alone in the woods,

in six inch heels,

and too much blush.

Limbs

 

i’m like bloated as fuck

and my eyes are red

and i am wondering what the world

will look like when i see you

knowing what i know when it isn’t

the kind of knowing i am fond of

i am loosening my pants,

while you loosen your grip

and you are lying about my metaphors

while i consider going down on you

consider swimming across the ocean

so you can no longer reach my

emerging grin

you are using stupidity as a weapon

and i forgot the shield in my other jeans

with my brush and eye drops

and probably a little more money

i hang my pants up to dry

i forget the opening act again.

Your limbs dangle like carrots.

i bite. welcome home, motherfucker.

Your Swagger, Your Secret, Your Sauce

 

Oh Boo Boo, I don’t need your swagger,

your secrets, your sauce, i can’t take what you got

it all just eats my shit alive, and I am staring at my phone,

and I am trying not to say stop. FUCKING STOP.

I watch the silly skanks slither past your godliness,

wearing purple robes of whore and desperation,

and blowing out candles to fuck you in the dark.

In the light of day, vampires hide without mercy,

saving cigarettes for later on to make a mark in the evening

when they have stories to tell and something better going on.

There’s a switch we have to hit, and if you don’t, my finger is placed.

Traces circles around it, like I’m getting a bitch off, and I’m not scared

to press. And release. Don’t test. It’ll be my motherfucking treat.

Your street wise serenade has had me on my knees, but today.

Is a day of rest. A day of mourning, a day of let enough be enough

be enough, race you to the kill, but you are faster than my ass.

I give credit where credit is due. Tip my hat. All of this. For you.

Demons

 

maybe she is just tired

of fucking the demons,

making them breakfast,

loaning them pussy and food

for thought

never getting repaid

he’s got the car again.

walks in, laces tied, thought

you were six but you’re closer to a,

closer to a,

the smoke is burning her eyes,

and they go from green to black

melted lashes in her tea

she sips and waits.

Soberland

 

baby is crying again

from the corner of the room

and the sound is a little like

soda fizz and fucking, purrs so sweet,

i want to curl up

fetal position

and pop pills that calm the sick

and the insane

i’m in his room, i am feeding

off the minutes, i am getting

to know his insides,

i am traveling distances,

i am following tears, cum,

and picking apart the wall

with my bitten nails.

 

hold it all back.

we are

 

better off.

 

i inherited desire.

i inherited disgust.

i inherited the sober land

that he pisses on.

 

and i ask him to do it again.

 

Dirty Pictures

 

i just got finished vomiting

up your pictures in the shower

while you sat with your pants

around your ankles beating off to

an image of us in your mind,

though the computer showed some

chick getting fucked from behind

i thought it could be the salmon,

but it was probably the thought of

your dick that close to another human being.

Either way, the vomit clogged up the drain,

so now my feet smell like puke.

 

i wondered if you left your ring on

while your fingers were somewhere

inside my stomach and i wondered if you

made an impact on something other

than my cervix.

 

dilated soul compromising position.

leaks onto the bed.

 

i hate your fucking dirty pictures.