Sublimation for my Insecurities: A Play of Satire

People in academia piss me off. They stimulate their brain with respectable ideas for the purpose of making concrete changes in the world. I’m jealous. I prefer to investigate the motives of people’s drives and the reasoning behind their morality for no reason than the stimulation of it. There must be something missing in me.Continue reading “Sublimation for my Insecurities: A Play of Satire”

An Empty Form

When I go against what I want, I turn pitiful and weak; my strength atrophy’s because it’s being completely ignored. When my strengths are ignored all that exists are my weaknesses, and so I turn pitiful and helpless—unable to fight off my self-malicious attacks. I become so weak and self-helpless that I must grab atContinue reading “An Empty Form”

Weakling Cesspool

Seemingly strong and powerful, but really weak. You fight the pathetic and weak—weaker than you. Validation is the name of your game. Your hunger never satiated because your meals have no sustenance. So you eat the pathetic nothings—and they come crawling to your ugly beauty. Your scent powerful, your glow incandescent, but there lays noContinue reading “Weakling Cesspool”

Petite Thing

There’s a pattern that my mind has recognized: petite girls develop insecurity through their less than perfect sexuality, as a result they use deceptive tactics on desperate men to validate their sexuality. They ask you out, knowing you’ll come crawling—broken spine and contorted just to get to them. Ask them into your world (say, toContinue reading “Petite Thing”

Dead at Sea

Once again, he was disoriented.  He hoped for inspiration to come; there was no more spark, no more catalyst within him.  External energy was required for him to create art.  This is what he wanted: to create art.  But he couldn’t fight the destitution of his life—paying bills, grocery shopping, observing automobiles as they zoomedContinue reading “Dead at Sea”


Brain fog, limp dick, half ate chicken breast in front of me.  Today is dreary.  I barely feel alive.  Can’t finish the rest of my chicken breast.  Gave away two loads of swimmers that could have been saved to shoot into someone else’s hot wife.  The emptiness and dullness of today is enough for self-mutilation. Continue reading “Gertrude”

I Want to Run My Hand up Her Fish Net Covered Popliteal

The psyche is formed through assimilating physical compliments.  She was given less compliments than the other one.  Her soul was stronger.  The other one’s soul was abjectly unrousing to my platonic attraction of her.  Despite this, I feel more towards her.  Feel more, towards a vapid piece of flesh.  And the truly beautiful one: myContinue reading “I Want to Run My Hand up Her Fish Net Covered Popliteal”