Clips itch
Gary had been experiencing lower abdominal pain for months now. A small lump had started growing just above his penis. Gary was the type that didn’t believe in doctors.
So the strange lump continued to grow and grow. His skin began to break apart where the lump was forming. It was a tumor, which to the touch had a soft jelly like surface under the skin, as well as a hard formation. Something white began to show from the open wound. Gary ‘s only relief from this horrible situation was to drink a lot of whiskey, and gobble oxcottn.
The tumor was beginning to have what appeared to be teeth growing from it. It was also forming black lips around those teeth. Gary decided the best thing to do was just ignore it for a few days, not even look at the thing. One night he was lying in his smelly farty bed with his cat Fred.
Gary woke up to Fred licking the tumor like growth. Suddenly the teeth snapped at the cat’s head, and bit poor Fred on his pink nose.
“Oh fuck!” Gary bellowed. He began shaking. He stuck a finger near the toothy tumor, and it bit his finger. Gary punched it and cracked one of its teeth.
“This is too fuking much!” Gary yelled, he gobbled more oxycottn’s and pulled out his whiskey, calling in sick to his job at Kentucky fried chicken.. Gary got good and drunk, staring at the tumor.
He put a cigarette near the tumor, and the black lips began to take small tokes off the cigarette, as yellow drool dribbled down from it, dribbling towards Gary’s shriveled penis.
“Get me a piece of pizza you dirtball, I’m hungry.” The tumor said, in a husky female voice.
Gary began screaming, running around his cramped apartment.
“What the hell are you!” he screamed.
“Quit your whining boy, were stuck with each other for a while, so we might as well make the best of it.”
“Fuk you!” Gary yelled at the tumor.
Gary got a knife out, and began stabbing at the lips and teeth.
“That’s just going to hurt you a lot more then me you dumb fukin druggie.” The tumor told him.
Gary continued screaming.
“Look at it this way sport, if you get a hard on, I can help you out, if you know what I mean.” The tumor said.
That night Gary and the tumor talked a lot.
The tumor sucked on Gary’s boner, as they shared whiskey and pain pills, eating pizza into the wee hours of the morning.
The next day what felt like a nose was forming just above the toothy black-lipped creature. Tiny sprouts of blonde hair were also sprouting out from around Gary’s belly button.
“Good morning champ.” The tumor said.
In the deep forest’s of Gunzula, up on a colossal mountain, among the unsullied air of sea wafts and sunlight, far away from this world we know, sits a mansion full of rich munchkins, whom smoke the days away, and fish the nights away, some would say they were alien trolls of the future.
The mansion has 300 rooms that swoop around spiral glossy staircases, contorting the wooden shapes of marble and cauliflower stoned watercolors, reaching upwards to the special closed off rooms, that only Dilly and Cheddar can occupy.
Dilly and Cheddar have been lovers, soul mates, best friends since the mansion was first started in the 14’th century. The other dwarves died through out the centuries, days, minutes, and seconds, eventually do one in. The others didn’t have the potion Dilly and Cheddar concocted- to stay young for eternity, like cockroaches after nuclear wars. They were left to carry on & to teach the new breed of dwarves. Not to mention they loved to be waited on by fellow dwarves, like some sort of finicky royalty.
- fiends
did I ever tell any of u about the hole in my head? Well, I’m sure it’s
nothing, but when I was a young child, all the way up into my late 20’s, I use to wake up with a sickening feeling, like I had been taken away to other planets, abused, probed, touched, given certain intelligence’s that were
beyond human, that I could never quite tap in to, I use to have constant nightmares about these fuked up looking fiend’s with big black eyes, that would freeze me, physically stop me from being able to move my body, yes, freeze, but I wasn’t cold while this was going on, I was always warm,. &
they could walk through walls, theses fiends could come whenever they felt like it, mostly at night, and the only thing in the household that would even notice them, would be one of the cats, I grew up with a lot of cats. These
alien things didn’t like cats, that’s one thing I remember, in fact, one time, they were going to kill one of my cats for one of their alien barbecues, but I tapped into the power they had told me about for only a second without talking, & then they knew not to mess with anything I loved, cause we had this strange understanding, sort of like when u think someone is standing
behind u, and u turn around, and sure enough.
So anyways they kept coming at night. I wouldn’t really remember much till I woke up the next day, and then it would all come back to me in bits and
pieces. I’m convinced now that they hired the doctors to cut my head open and implant the tracking device, which also works as a radio satellite into outer space. Because these fiends have people everywhere. Some times I can
spot other people on the street who have been abducted by the fiends as well, we have a certain look about us, almost like a nervous junky twitch.
I’m still learning the language but sometimes they can get violent with me. cause I’m starting to learn that they have already infiltrated most of the
United States, and they are really big in china as well. One day after drinking mjy7self to near death, I decided to prove it to myself, that they had in deed implanted something inside my skull. So I cut around the soft spot on my head, and began probing my fingers down into my brain matter until I
felt a square metal like shiny thing, I yanked it out and looked at it. It looked like a computer motherboard, only really small. I was bleeding all over and
my head hurt, so I went to the hospital to get some help, and to show the doctors that I wasn’t insane, that they really did implant something in my head. The only problem was, when the doctor walked in, I knew he was one of them, one of the fiends. I tried to run, but he quickly used his telepathic
powers to seduce me into a calm state of mind. I awoke a few days later with my head sewn back shut. The doctor was standing above me.
“You idiot, you have jeopardized entire centuries of work. I have informed our friends, and they are not happy with you! Just wait till the next meeting, they are going to radiate your inner most thoughts more, so that now you will remember nothing. And to think they trusted you more then me. you little fuker. If it were up to me, I would have fed you to the fiends pets.”
The doctor said.
“Fuk off, give me something for this pain, you human traitor!” I screamed back at him without using words.
He quickly gave me what was needed, and I escaped out into the city that same night, hovering in alley ways, staying with sleazy friends, always wondering when the fiends would catch up with me again. I might try and take it out again.
Cause I feel like someone is always standing behind me waiting to pounce.
I was eating sushi the other night at a nice restaurant over looking the Pacific Ocean when a man I didn’t want to see came up to me, and asked me if I had a quarter I could spare. One thing I don’t like is when someone talks to me when im eating. I yanked out my hurbusker, which also can dis em bowel a man 13 seconds before he dies.
“One more word out of u, and u will become the sushi on the floor”
I said, in my best Clint eastwood impersonation.
The man sat down and ordered me drinks, as I stared out into the moonlit ocean sky. Eventually the man was eating shrimp with the poop vein still in it. Dipping it in cocktail sauce. We ordered some sluts from the menu, and I flew us to Paris in my private jet. The man was going to die, but I gave him a chance as we flew over the sea,
“Just jump! “ I told him
He laughed, pulled out a bread knife, that was also a tracking device, at that point I knew he had been hired by the alien doctors, who were after my manuscript, which was actually hidden back at the restaurant in a Chinese cooks locker.
So I pushed him out into the sea, but he had a parachute, so u cant say I don’t have a heart, me and the ladies arrived in Paris at midnight, we got our regular hotel room, and ordered some freshly cut elephant balls in tarter sauce, one of the ladies, Cindy, she kept forcing me to snort more of her cocaine, but I would just crap it out right away, I was at the point where no drug really effected my mood or personality, not much could make me see anymore, except the thing they had implanted in my head years ago on that trip to the Africa, among the swollen donkey rides, the caved in canyons shaped like Virginia thighs.
Then one of them put on Blondie music. That’s when I decided it was time for a nap in my Bentley timed machine made of metallic chrome parts from the dentists office tool cabinet. I could have danced till the sun rose, but I took my brain out, layed it on the glass table, giving the ladies all they needed for conversations I never much cared for. I met my pet kangaroo in my suite; we chuckled, and then cried, she then told me to eat more carrots, . that’s when the frog man came in, jumping around the walls, telling me I had a message from a dancer in Europe that wanted to mingle under my private boat, that was leaving the next day, for the Bahamas island ribs.
Oh darlin, darlin darlin.
That’s when mother called and told me the news about the war in the country I use to own, I almost lost my sushi, -I ran for my body guards coke stash, that hadn’t been tasted for almost what always felt like years above that restaurant, above that sea.
There was only one thing I could do. Ice cream blanket stroke machine, I pulled it out and looked for the dam batteries that the ladies were smoking in the next room. If it weren’t for there lipstick champagne lips, I’d have left that place and gone home. My jet was almost out of gas, with the half broken gage, the strange stomach pains, with people hovering over my lava lamped dead guts jimmy, making them voices say.. “hurry up! Hurry up!
I managed to hang up the phone, forgetting about the wires and bombs I had rigged to it a month ago.
Gwen’s long blonde hair flowed down her naked beautiful body, as she stood in front of her boyfriend’s bathroom mirror. Lawrence lifted a crusty eye open from sleep, his eyes coming into focus on her pale round ass. He reached for some water and a smoke to start his horrible day.
Helen had hips swiveled from steel workers sparkling flames. She walked around like she owned the world. Always drunk when she wasn’t driving her big rig round the United States. Helen would sometimes recite her high school poetry to some of the fellow truckers she met in bathrooms with sticky floors. Helen gave both her children up for adoption in the 1980’s, cause her boyfriend was a junkie who would be dead with in a few years. She was only 19 after all, when she gave birth to her second child. She named both the children after they were born. But the kids grew up with different names. In the hills of Hollywood rich couples, who couldn’t have children of there own, cause they had no souls, only bank accounts and cav- ee are’s./
Helen drove her big rig from Houston to Baton Rouge, to San Diego from Ann Arbor. She fed her mind with one-night stands and crystal meth. When after driving for 14 hours at a time, listening to books on tape, she would enjoy the time in her big rig bed, with a dim light, a bottle of Canadian mist, a pen in hand, she had written five novels already. At the age of 43, she was a gypsy who owned the freeways. She had emptiness though. Emptiness she tried to run from every day through the chemicals she consumed. The cocks she sucked on. The emptiness was her missing children, the emptiness was something she had been running from her entire life, her father had raped her, her mother had beat her. Yet still, she thought she was some sort of poet, some sort of Greek goddess. And this made her feel ok sometimes, even when her throat was choking on trucker cum balls that shot like babies from circumcised belt buckles.
She’d been in the coalmines with always the pen in her dusted wranglers, her matty trailer hair dripped grease on the states she traveled. Her copyrights never known. Her children feeling that same emptiness. –
Clancy had a long night of partying over at some friend’s house. He left drunk, drugged, at 3 a.m. to get some much need rest in his room at his parents house. He made to his street, and noticed something in the distance near his parents driveway, as he got closer he recognized his friend Gary’s car in the ditch in front of his driveway. The mailbox was gone. Gary was slumped over in the ditch, singing songs about America.
-It was snowing outside and Billy was colder then a corpse floating in a frozen lake of solitude.. He pulled the icy sleeping bag around his shoulders and tried to make some sort of sense through the crazy thoughts. He wondered how he ended up homeless in this park, near the river.
He wanted to make it all better, but everything just seemed to get worse. Billy tried not to think. Thinking only caused tears. He wanted to survive for some reason. But this was no way for a man to live. His shivering body began to go into the first stages of hypothermia Billy took a slug off his whiskey bottle, and dug his frozen fingers into his wet cold pockets, searching for a little bit of change for some hot coffee.
The woods around him were so un forgiving, so lonely, and filled with white snow, like nuclear dust surrounding chapped lips, that continued to fall from the nights gray sky. His sleeping bag was wet and frozen. Billy’s shaky shivering half blue hands reached into his wet coat pocket, hoping he had one cigarette left. They even give a cigarette to a man on death row, in his final hour. But Billy’s luck was just about all used up.
He had many chances in his life to figure things out. But it was all the dam people and the voices that always confused him. He never had a chance to listen to his own thoughts, until now. All his thoughts tried to turn to warmth. He knew he would freeze to death soon. Billy pulled himself up off the cold ground, and began to stumble towards the city lights.
Billy headed towards his xgirlfriends house. It was about a four-mile walk. People in warm heated cars, drove by him, yelling insults at his appearance, spitting at him, throwing bottles at his cold head. Tears poured down his face. He thought of his dead mother, his retarded father, and his sister in the mental institution. He thought of every person who ever cared for him. Then he realized no one ever had, except Joan. Joan, his xgirlfriend, who had kicked him out 3 months ago.
“Take him out back and shoot him in the fuking head,” Joe said, blowing smoke out of his chapped over fed monkey lips.
“I can’t just shoot him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to slice him apart first and taste the blood from his heart.”
“Do what you must do psycho boy, just make sure when the sun comes up, he ain’t breathing, or we will both have Neena to deal with.”
the ground’s for removal from
the hypnotic way she could stand
like she was waving a operatic globe
for all the world to see only to be
freely fished out like some tuna
from the sea of war rafts-
what was once the good for nothing,
now it was the everyday events
that stroke the ceo ego’s
like stars with red carpet eyes
as another hurricane passes over
the small town once adored
by millions of passing skeletons that danced frog hops in summer moons with chapped antlers wiggling
above their decaying heads,
forming avalanches inside the only thing that seemed to be moving anymore. lit graves combed
& prodded upward to change what this illusion had only made more demanding –
shifting from high energy to a barrel of barf with a straw on one side and the hurry eyed rodents making
last reservations in some gloomy yet undeniable boat with Twinkie fed jam heads playing bass lines to the
sound of marching boots.
the beach blonde bimbo fed college student of the year party gals ate tacos on high-rise buildings wondering
if their cell phone would ring to take them to planet fuk u in the head.
These cheddar bates
had doctors with clogged arteries
like notable ridden moth soaked basement mold.
It was hot when the air broke
down from over usage and the hoods tied shut with them broken coat hangers of timeless words.
The meanings had faded off into sun slimed lipoid suctioned dances along the Cuban shores-
Risking his last breath for a taste of so called
freedom along the cracked shells of ignorant computer brained rocket status over achievers- following paths
with money stamps in order to
ignore what may have actually
been hiding in some hidden trunk from
some year when naughty frozen
food smile chose a hitchhiking
women in dressed opinions
to sprout what seemed to every other tom dick or Joe to be living in that un questionable belly which
protruded through the
lanes as if to search for the naval gutted last hit
of the exact same thing that ate away at other men who grabbed hearts and sank over to one last panicked attack
from the bodies that use to hold strange beliefs- like Indian war gods foaming from decay chiseled leaders in soggy designs.
The questionable ethics of man
with his string
bean jump suits and gravy-laden ties driving around whistling Dixie dirt from lips lost in sexual thought.
hair crumbs battered around
hi, my names fred and im an alcoholic
the long-lived vultures that flung themselves through clouds in draped gallows.
oven mitts mangled and torn with blown up
microwave sausage cakes at tea parties in patio crudded rich socialites dinner guests.
hiring employees to grow fundamental changes in what seems like a wasted bank account –so that ignorance
is only the bliss felt by those who could care less about the cancer ridden
lungs from what a man was once
said to have been nothing more then
an animal to hunt among this technically advanced ape like turtle freaks, sucking on washing machine quarters – so that education is no longer a must- but backwards
steps cause oneness of every
other nothingness, which craved a piece
of the blood red meat on the Barbie.
wrinkled suits and airplane flights
doing old war nose-dives into oceans full of green house tax plan media hype horseshitted appled-eyed giggle warts
18 zillion years and
a monkey on the back boned wish doctor
broken time, loaded lemons, frazzled existence, torn maps, spitting exhausts, tail piped freeways leading in spirals –
as in headache for a century with the touch of human flesh in mayonnaise land fills,
a donkey with wings flapping like flap
jacks through what appears to be true blue madness on a shelf full of bargain hunting fat housewives waddling
through futuristic malls made of big bubbled balloons
that carry radiation from
solar flexed muscle mangled junkyard parts
& we have all the particles from past
yet move forward going nowhere at all while getting way to fast
flipped racecar into crowd
screaming turbo toxic gas
engine splatters in hot dog Pepsi fried ticket holders
they call me the idiot
-The narrowing path radiated cold mist off the late night trail, walking along with my liquor slumped stride – the invisible eyeballs glaring at me from hidden trees. It was late December in Michigan, cold enough to freeze a man’s ears and nuts like icicles. I had been drinking all day and night at the local bar, and was now walking back to my apartment through this little back route I knew. It must have been 50 below out. Sure felt like it anyway. I was about half way through the woods when I slipped on a patch of ice and went tumbling down this little embankment that led to some frozen water. I cracked my head hard against the frozen water but didn’t crack the ice. There was nothing but this for now.
- Alcoholic
Deral hog-tied her up- pulled out the jar of mayonnaise he had mixed with pickle juice; egg whites- beef jerky, celery, tortes soup, lemons, fish skulls, from lakes in Michigan, the salt with added pepper, and cherry juice. He rubbed his long fingernails into it. Grabbing gobs of the solution to rub gently on her naked flesh in the heat of august air-conditioned skies. He pulled out the bag of sugar, adding spoonfuls with his chapped fingers, wrinkled hands.
“It reminds me of coke honey,” he mumbled behind her succulent backside.
There was only the flashing light from the stereo. A flicker of a candle at the end of its purple scented wick. There was only this moment in time. Even though time didn’t exist anymore. The darkly somewhat lit room- the furry LeoZane kitten chewing and attacking their loaded toes, with minuscule droplets of blood from skin spilling off ankles in slow motion un washed stained cum sheets. It still smelled like raspberry punches, & plum apple flavored margaritas. Flashing on and off. Flashing on and off. A scorpion ran quickly across the white wall, un detected, as the bodies, 2 of them, inter mingled.
Malory was choking in the mayonnaise; it was covering her white fleshy skin, as the pickle juice ran down her horny face.
At first she felt real comfort in Deral’s arms, but when they spoke that first last statement, she didn’t want to pull out the props that were part of the so-called play.
“I’m pregnant you sick bastard!” Malory screamed, as Deral mounted her from behind.
Deral said nothing as tears dripped down her green blue eyes. She tensed a bit. A tear fell onto her back. He rammed slowly, like some artist crying in his own self-portrait.
“and u have nothing to say!, that’s just typical of you Deral! Nothing to say when you can’t deal with what u have done!” she screamed as the sweat dripped down their skin. Darel had plenty to say. Darel had plenty to die for. But at that particular time, his mouth could not speak, only his eyes, shed droppings of pent up salty tears. “Flashing on and off. Flashing on and off!” He screamed finally. His stomach arching towards climactic dreams of time- scents filling the room.
They woke up with almost erased memories. Little by little as the day went on, and they worked they crap jobs, the scent of afresh cat turd seeped into both their stuffed noses, leaving both twitchy, irritated, and quite possibly in love.
Deral bought the farm off his cousin vinny. Chester had just died, so Mallory had a bit of extra income, from the will.
“whats it matter then doll?”
“nothing” she smiled.
“that’s what I been saying all along”
“I know my sweet, my love, my one true thing.”
“Lets watch jeopardy and order a new couch honey.”
“Ok” he said, rubbing her growing belly.
Deral’s kid looked like a wet half eaten turd when it came out of Mallory’s cunt one Sunday sunny afternoon. It turned out to be a biter, always biting his worried parents and eating all the pickles that co workers got in big mailed boxes of euphoric glimpses in times better traveled.
“what we gona do ?” she asked, beer foam dripping down her sexy lips.
“we gonna do the right thing honey.” He barfed.
“what’s that?” she asked
Darel went back into his non-talking mode, as they took the product out to the pond to see if it could swim as well as it could scream. The next day darel got a job on a fishing boat in the polluted gulf of Mexico, Mallory became a farmer, and they planted a new life together, never forgetting about the old one that was still swimming around in that pond, waiting for a life jacket.
“aint the sun nice today?”
“sure is honey, sure is.”
a guitar gently stroked its strings in the distance. They embraced each other, trying to forget, trying to move ahead, only to take steps backwards, picking up the fragments they both never discussed.
“ I want to fly around the sun and leave a mark on our love, so that all can dance with us in the fresh air of life filled forces, as we eat each others tears, and fuk like bats in the trees.”
“oh shut the fuk up, u dumb fukin bitch!” darel yelled.
They stared at each other. Then laughed, hugged, had sex, went to bed, woke up and fished in the now ancient pond.
“Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it the best thing in the hole wide world honey?”
Darel got out the hog ties, and forced himself to fight the sensitivity that was engulfing his once ugly soul.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I ever caught, and to think we through it away, to think, I love you Mallory, just to think, “ he mumbled, tying himself in knots with the rope.
They woke up in each other’s arms, crusty & ready for whatever was placed before them.
Blues wiggle
she turned the lights off
hoppin on one foot
jumpin up and down
yelling bout Charley Patton
she opened up the windows
smashing them with one hand
dancing upside down
yelling bout sleepy John Estes
she said she’s going home
wiggling round the floor
sleepy alcohols come down
screamin bout the long ride home
yelling bout Charlie Musslewhite
lips & spines
bones & flesh,
crazy bout my crazy baby
crazy baby, crazy bout me
drunk again
yelling bout
them heavy feet
she be singin
bout me
comin round
muffled images
ram shackle
about
the early morning breeze
whispers
in thought
satchel attached to headaches
triangular globes numb the bones
hear distant songs
hear blues between my toes
sand paper tongues
nibble the edged nail
got these ol blind
man walking blues
birds purr on lap lipped -
my mind gets to rambling
aint if it one thing
aint it another
says sure cant rest at night
got them muddy shoes
lip lapped purr bird blues-
the cushion under shoveled shoes
gona ask my baby what time it is
she gona say
aint if it one thing
sure be another
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