sloppyass
the room was fragrant menthol, asbestos clotheslines in a raggedy dead fish
noon. cracks traveled up the walls like broken unmended fingers up the back
of a quivering overdose. the light shot off and on like a strobe light,
making the kid twitch, there was no mirror, or table in the room, only two
chairs, and two steaming cups, black coffee in one, decaf in the other.each
wall was a decaying jaundice, the floor a brown tongue solidified in lockjaw
from a beartrap anklewound, now and then, sounds of a creaking chair.
"kissing, where are you?
the child winces and opens his oddly shapen mouth into a perfect vortex of
pustulating gums teeth tongue. vapid aromas of stomach acid tinge the
questioners nostrils. as a birth defect, mouth opened abnormally wide, and
cracked, as the child dislocates his jaw voluntarily and lets it twitch at
his skull. the doctor rushes in with more medicate, relocates the bone, and
the kid falls to the floor. the questioner leaves downcast and irate.
a thin kid, age sixteen, tight jeans, cowbow boots, tight t-shirt, cheap
black cloth jacket. he sips a beer in the billiard hall, lined with billiard
boards and rising cigarette smoke, chattering voices, belches, clanging
bottles. he has no interest in the game, but instead slides an origami
folded 50 dollar bill across a table towards a man with a pot belly, coke
bottle glasses, and nose as long and wide as a beerbottle. from each nostril
of the man hang chains, from which hang hooks, onto which are attatched
writhing frogs. blood drips arbitrarily and spatters on the dusty decrepit
wooden slat floor. the kid takes the money, laughs with his head throw back
and fingers through his blond hair wisps, laughs like the sound of water
filling an empty glass bottle when submerged in a bathtub of tainted warm
used water. pockets the packet of black tar and struts from the bar room,
sucking eyes to his body like arrows shot from a crossbow. his ass winks at
the room before the door slams behind him, and he stands at the bus stop for
fifteen minutes or so, before he is acquired, and rides home.
climbing up a rope ladder into the bedroom in his parents house, utterly
devoit of anything but a desk, dark blue haphazardly painted, and wooden
bed, matted with dirty sweat colored sheats and a torn white cloth blanket.
a tv sprays mute atomic fizz into the room like alka seltzer fuzz. the child
lights a cigarette, and smacks his clockradio with his boot heel turning the
station to a loud scratching static, sometimes intermittant with gurgling
voices drowned out by the sounds of falling rain in some late night mining
town, and opens the drawel of his desk tossing a small stuffed animal on the
surface.cutting crudely sewn stiches open in the pink monkeys bowel, and
extracting from with pinched fingers, a seringe, a bent spoon, and a rubber
tube, lights a candle, shoots up, and melts into a pile onto the chair, the
sounds of the cackling radio making quiver spastically spoaradically.silver
dollars clatter from the ceiling and melt into cracks on the floorboards,
while worms crawl from his nose and sliver into the cracks in his asshole
from a tear in the knee of his jeans.
not much, whats going on?
nothing
are you really into that kinky stuff we talked about?
yes
even ws?
ws?
oh, yes
really
yes
damn id love to do it with you
but not in this house
oh where do you do it?
not here.
oh
id love to get ur piss
u give or recieve?
both i guess
your a perverted kid
ever drink it?
i drank my own
i know
did you like it
i dunno, it was different
what do you like to do?
thats kewl
give recieve and sometimes drink
did you get off when we had sex?
i didnt cum, but i was nervous
aww
i wanted you too
thats ok
why didn't you jo
dont feel bad
i dunno
sometimes i cant
i woulda jacked you off
would you?
yeah
kid found the dog walking, three legged, limping down the road, and struck
it over the head with a police style billy club putting it in a trashbag and
bringing it home tying it to a steak in his backyard with about three inches
of thick rope so it had no room to move it awoke as he knelt behind it and
smashed a bottle lithely collecting about eight pieces of broken glass and
assembling them in a row on a trashbag and setting a bowl of milk laced with
laxative in front of the dogs face which it thankfully lapped up taking a
pair of scissors and slicing off the whimpering dogs tail tossing it on a
styraphoam plate worried about cancer he took the smallest piece of glass
and forced it into the dogs jerking pucking bloodsoaked anus with a carrot,
forcing it to the wall of the dogs ass.taking the second largest piece of
glass, and forcing it into the hole of the dog which now gasped and whined
like a child forfeeding himself deoderant. forcing in the third largest he
has some trouble, and uses his finger. picking up the forth piece with
bloodsoaked shitstained fingers, he pushes the glass into the dogs ass with
his finger which now lays panting, squating down.the fifth piece. the sixth
piece. the seventh piece. the carrot breaks, and he uses his finger. the
eighth piece doesnt fit.mounting the dogs shaking legs and a mouth which
blathers like the mouth of one whose talking under ether sleep, onto a
glossy wooden rack and nailing its paws to the wood, exposes his nearly
purple erection and forces it into the dogs glass filled asshole. he feels
his cock snag and cut on a piece of glass but forces it in further, still
further, an enourmous cock, untill it cannot go inside anymore, and it
punctures the anal skin and slids into a wound, piercing into the dogs
intestines. he feels the soggy warm tubes parting around his cock. he
withdrawels his cock, and lifts the dog attatched to the apparatus, into a
trashbag, carries it to the curb with bloodstains on the crotch of his
jeans, and drops it still writhing and whimpering into a plastic trashcan.
he walks into his parents suburban home, undresses, and sits indian style in
a maple colored bathtub, pouring rubbing alcohal over his sliced up cock,
and watching the blood flow into the drain in intermingled rivulets.
"kissing, are you there?
the kid awakens, and stares at his questioner with blank and blunted eyes.
his eyes roll back into his head, twitch, flutter, and the kid falls out of
his chair onto the floor, his ass in the air rotating in irregular
circumscriptions.
his parents got home at around 10pm from a dinner date, and kid sat naked in
the bathtub covered in self inflicted scars, his head down, shit staining
the linoleum around the toilet, blood and shit solution drawings all over
the mirror. kid shivered, drinking beer, not halfway drunk, sharpened piece
of plywood in his hand.all night he had been attempting to slice his finger
off.someone had been calling for the entire night, possibly his boyfriend
who he had called earlier in the day and simply uttered the phrase
"i want to cut out childrens tongues
which had been true, he really wanted to, and sat in silence, in his head
although, a violent roar of voices and sound, drilling into his skull. a
thousand battered delerious babbling throats spattering and sputtering into
internal nonexistant ears growing inside his brain. his parents made no
gesture to him as they returned home. they hadnt spoken to the aptly named
16 year old "kissing" since they found him masturbating in the lockless
bathroom, and since they had caught him going down on another kid around his
age in his bedroom, had been even more cold to him, after his father
attacked their conjoined bodies with a broomstick, and caused blood to
sprout on his boyfriends skin before he slithered out the window, they had
stopped when he left, and stopped beating kissing as well. they didnt care
enough about the kid to even give him another bad memory to deal with in the
back of his battered and mishapen skull.
kissing stood and moved like a breath of cigarette smoke to a drawer in the
bathroom, opening it and extracting another packet of black tar, a spoon,
and seringe, cooking up the heroin with crystal meth, and injecting it
strait into the pulsating vein in his cock which refused to deflate of
blood. he stood in front of the mirror and began to trace a circle around
his erection with a razor. by the time the circle was completed, he could
not even feel anything in his skin.
kissing? kissing? where are you? the questioner grows furious. KISSING!
WHERE ARE YOU!
he doesnt answer. he lays on his back, staring at a spider on the ceiling,
that crawls into a crack and disappears. he winces in agony as his vision
disappears.
standing before the mirror, the mirror disolves into a television screen,
showing the cheap bedroom where he was raised, the only light coming from a
television set, locked in a cheap crip that his mother had wrapped in barbed
wire because she was afraid of him escaping, although he had been to hapless
to even think of it- he didnt even speak his first word untill he was five,
he hadnt even heard an intelligable word, spoken from his parents his first
five years, which he had spent alone in front on the television, he was
afraid to speak. he saw, in silence, his mother hoist him out of the crib,
and force his mouth open with two claw forefinger middlefinger hands, and
shove an apple into his mouth like a crab apple.
this is wrong, this is all wrong, this is illegal, theyll put me in jail for
this, and torture me for the rest of my life, make me walk down the street
holding my severed penis in my teeth
she shoves his writhing body into the oven and turns it on to 350 degress.
he feels slowly the heat rise, and his mouth opens so widely, shrieking in
terror and pain, that the apple falls from his broken jaw, and he faints,
out of terror.
"kissing... are you there? kissing? where are you? kissing can you hear me
talking? kissing?
but kissing cant hear
a damn
thing
kissing moves out of the bathroom, spilling blood onto the white carpet in
splotches and splatters. he walks uneasily, clutching the sharpened wooden
dagger in his hand, and moves slowly down the stairs. his father, at the
sink singing frank sinatra, turns around when he hears the linoleum creak,
and eyes his sons detatched and eviscerated torso with giant glowing eyes...
YOU FUCKING F-
he doesnt have time to finish. kissing dives on top of him with the fury of
a leopard, driving the wooden slat into his fathers eyes, right, left ,
right, left, right, left, back and forth, over and over, untill his father
twitches in posthumous ague on the blood caked linoleum. kissing stands with
his back to the twitching torso, then turns around, kneels next to the body
and cuts out his fathers tongue, as deep as he can reach, untill he has
extracted a six inch tongue steak from his fathers skull. he puts the tongue
into his mouth, pinning it in between his teeth, so it appears if hes
sticking a six inch, blood clotted tongue out at someone. kissing edges down
the stairs to his mother who stands shivering in the laundry room, takes a
look at him and shrieks in anticipation, as kissing lunges at her making a
nine inch sprinting dive across the laundry room over stacks of rotting
clothing and playboys from the 1970s and rams the wooden stake into her
womb, strait through her pants, panties and into her cunt, deep so deep his
hand reaches up the canal, fist and all all the way up to the elbow, wooden
steak still clutched tightly in his frigid fist. he lets go, and withdrawels
his hand from the vaginal canal as his mother limps across the room and
colapses crying into a pile of old pulp books.
later, his younger sister comes home, and in her dispatching, he takes pity.
she walks through the front door, calling out
im home, and moves to the kitchen to see her fathers carrion, flies already
buzzing, a pile of steaming shit smeared deep into his mouth that has been
yanked violently open, the turd hangs from the lips like a flaccid penis.
terrified the young girl darts from the house but trips over the dental
floss already strung up blocking the door. she collides face first with the
pavement of the front steps and her nose is shattered, standing up weeping
and babbling, confused, realizing she should run, attempts to before a
broomstick reaches around her esophagus gagging her. blood spurts from her
lips as arms fling her back into the house and upon the carpet.the broom
stick smacks her over and over again in the face as hands flitter from the
dark tearing her clothes from her body.the broomstick comes down onto her
ass, tripping her when she stands to get away, down again and again untill
he trips her again, down a flight of five stair back onto her face and a
nose which is now smeared across her face like an erudite skidmark. the
abrupt sound of a SNAP in the dark house as the broomstick is broken over a
knee and driven full force from a dive down the steps into the sisters face
colapsing her skull at the right sinus, and down, and down again the
broomstick falls, smashing the childs face into scattered fragments on the
dirty linoleum.
in a jaundiced room without a mirror, a voice can be heard asking, "kissing?
where are you?
in reply, kissing answers
no
i dont care
i dont care about the rising price of cigarettes
i dont care about eric claptons son who fell out of a window
i dont care about where my next drink is coming from
i dont care about my next grilled cheese sandwhich
i dont care about my weight and my photo suave
i dont care about my grammar and work ethic
i dont care about your family and your girlfriend
i dont care about what is going to be on television tomarrow at six
i dont care about walking home from work in the rain
i dont care about cars and a drivers liscense
i dont care about cats and housepets, rodents, raccoons and other animals
i dont care about life, being alive, sex, drugs, or music
i dont care about fine art
i dont care about the environment
i dont care about the government or terrorism
in fact, i promote terrorism
a scared yuppie is better than an arrogant yuppie
i dont care about the time
i dont care about fame or money
i dont care about the cleanliness of my room, or god
i dont care about you
i dont care about me
i dont even care about the clouds, or the fine aromatic autumn wind that
washes through the pores of my clothing like gently chilled cheap blackberry
wine
i dont care about the newspapers
i dont care about my lonliness
i dont care about anything, other than whats in front of my face at any
given moment, what i have to do
i dont care about suicide
and thats why im still here
octabio
octabios suicide
he worked at a grocery store and was silent most of the time
he wasnt ostentatious or gaudy and wore weathered tired beaten clothes
that might be considered rags by the arm in arm couples
that frivilously taper away their money on style and leather
there was nothing truly noticable about him other than his inevitability
disappeared into the somethings life with boxes and shortcomings and angry
jarrings
stocked shelves hidden behind earphones and was often tormented by one of
his coworkers
a three hundred plus pounds pile of horseshit named dade
who would call him cocksucker and queer
in between stocking objects
octabio left work one day with a six pack of beer and some pork ribs
which he cooked and ate that morning
before getting drunk and sharpening a steak knife into a fakir
on a piece of limestone he had picked up on the roadside
and the blade was as jagged as a wolfs broken tooth
at work the next day he brought the blade and when he was harrased
drew the weapon studiously and plunged it into the seething gut of dade
pushing his arm deep after the blade into his bulk through his intestines
dade grabbed octabios shoulders and octabio reached deeper into the shit and
the slime
let go of the knife and began to slither his arm around in the fat creatures
intestines
searching for something
farts and belches fluted the fat creatures ass and mouth as shit and blood
poured out
of his ass in between hoots
finally octabios searching hand discovered what it was
looking for and the fingers latched around it and dragged it out of the
wound
it was a black marble with a tiny babies arm reaching from it, living,
gyrating three fingers, moving languidly, about the size of an egg
octabio examined the object, then set about escaping from the police.
horseshit
transubtantiating with flourscent trickling lights into cracked concrete
shower prison house stalls naked coal dust black eyelids pinned covering
luminous white and blue star glistening eyeballs the inmate stepped into the
steam collecting the blackened eyes of half a dozen showermates
transubstantiating into the spray of willow bristle scalding water hosing
off some of the crimson saphire blood and hackneyed flesh and mud that stuck
to his skin like particles of peanut butter and school paste
reaching to his face with a bar of soap, he washes bits of blood and flesh
and road puke off his misshapen skull with broken fingers dotted with scars
and tears and blackened torn fingernails
reaching to his mouth he scrubs out bone spliters and flesh hairs and blood
clots off his teeth that sluice down his jaw amoung rivulets of blood and
water
running the bar of soap over his blood caked skull clouded blood puddles
drain from in between his stony protuberating toes on enournous stony feet
capable of walking ten miles on a highway without shoes on
raising a comb to his blackened matted he drags it disagreeable through the
tufts clotted with blood and bits of torn flesh hardened to jerky in his
twisted knotted main of horsehair monkey
with some trouble tears the comb through ripping out bits of coiling hair
tiny shreds of flesh drop and plop to the cracked concrete floor blood
draining out of his hair as he takes some time cleaning it, then pouring
shampoo in it adding white to the blackened saccharine steak blood red color
white foam dilating with a pink tincture
filling his mouth with water he spits blood colored saliva and water to the
floor insiting other inmates to leap backwards
taking the soap to his broken maligned hands he begins to scrub them
dilligently dun drippings clotted blood and mud fall in strings water splash
to concrete flesh and blood scrubbed out from beneath the two of his
fingernails remaining that hadnt been ripped off and lost in the junkheaps
taking the soap to his torso a piece of flesh the size of a tortilla chip
falls off and plops messily to the hair clotted drain exposing a less burnt
patch of flesh on the slightly overweight torso clotted blood washes of in
moist chips and disolved red down his swollen left leg and shriveled right
leg
half of his body now exposed behind his suit of skin shreds clotted blood
oil and mud he moves to his bloody genitals washing them to a keen peach
color, and onto his legs, more clotted with dirt than blood
had he been wearing pants?
and down to his bare feet, painted with blood, films of filth and scars. it
takes some scrubbing before they appear a pasty white
transubtantiating into the dressing room and hanging an orange jump suit on
his frame
into the arms of captors, his pale eyelids slowly part like yawning mouths
and limps down the cold hallway
708
in a dimly lit basement room
the air conditioner runs
the fan blows
stacked beercans
sculptures
a body sits
growing slowly older
drowsy swimming in booze winter
dreams thought disolving
like steam wisps
time passing
alone and empty
without the passion
to lift the bottle a second time
in love with death
im a swaying cat tail
tasting the scent
coming rains
