Do I belong in a women's prison?

If baby kangaroo like I suddenly bop
a guy shuffling now through faces
yes this one. And following up with
knee groin, slapping, pulling of ears
head smacking, breaking over of
crockery? Not that imaginary act but
rather a constant willingness to do it
and growing constantly the boiling
ends of trains of logic leading in fact
reasonably to reach what yes horror.
I am fully far too ready to sacrifice
ex-digest call in all favors and that
desperation of levers is harder punch.
Let my relentless cycles show you
the way up and out and a template
to lean your big dick up against.

My Neighborhood

Look. There are two gay guys with
no air conditioning.
They seem to have washed up here
over the layer of primitive bones
like all the other unlikely characters
in my neighborhood.
Have you ever seen 1000 squirrels
in a single block-sized park?
It can make you nauseous knowing
how many times more wild animals
there are than humans and dogs.
Like just this morning I woke up to
widespread activity beneath the floor
gnawing shoving or dragging warning
scampering knocking dropping shaking
I had dreamt I was instrumental in
the Kavanaugh affair I had to provide
a body double and woke up damp
with sweat. Because I am like a
spider who's crawled out of a drain
only to be washed back in. Here is
the convergence of two natural
creeks: both alternately low and
stinking and high scary toxic. No,
I'm not fucking bi-polar that would
be Nature proper. She destroys and
ressurects herself infinite times
in every moment but no I'm the
one who needs meds. It's not
nature though what blights me
mentally apart from maybe mold
but that grows against a situational
motivator that's between the natural
and an effective realm that's distinctly
naked-ape mind. That's what's
happening on my block, and that's
what I'd like to explore here today.

Bitch you don't understand

IN my heart i was like bitch, you don't understand.
You need to hand over the fucking money.

BUT i wasn't that way. i melted myself down into
a puddle of cortisol and courtesy.



by Reptily

Not my vehicle

Not that i claim no ownership
Not literally a car, officer
Not a maneuver, plan, role, or mode
No faster than an office chair
Now that the weekend is here
Neither comfort nor purpose
Not a hope in the world
Not my idea, not all about choices
Nobody steps away to be sober
No one will put out the fire
Nothing will matter until it's over



Phyllis (embedded)

I Am the Golden Centre

I am the golden centre I
do not produce do not
manage serve operate
participate in or consume
However, observe I do.
I see desperate attempts
to keep me alive though
the legends they are true
I do not will not ever die.



by Illyn
"Short by Illinois standards."

She Finally Admits that She's Silly

ME: Are you silly?
SILLY: Yes, I'm a silly.

Sleep Paralysis Tonight

Steps down, steps tumbling, steps that surround
As if a broken neck, sleep paralysis is merciless

Today I worked so hard but the slider doesn't move
I went making every right choice today all day lord

But I'm poor, pity pity-pity po po po poor lord.
Lay me wrapped in poverty; let me rest with nothing



by Donna

Episode at the Drive-Thru

They sensed how urgent the shake was
Two of the world's most beautiful women
Dressed in tight grimy plastic

It was the wrong moment before morning
Just as they were crossing in the vault
To exchange their cash-and-coin trays

A fried potato slowly flattens, rides up
on a tire and into a shadow below
the fender and down the front again

It doesn't matter; I didn't mean to scare you
coming in with the gate half down demanding
an answer while you hide behind the fryers

So many greasy laps around a gas station
with an instant food parlor attached to its side
squealing engine on the cement drive

It'll be okay if I get my order
It won't take me long to get back home
The rest of the night can go on



LA CHAMA

Electrodes

waking up at noon
keeps you always on the down slide

been 57 for
10 days now that's a rock and roller

mouth stuck open
in permanent surprise or ecstasy

hairs going wide
keep me hooked up like electrodes



Ted

Thunder. Is. Appropriate.

it's almost like i want someone to put me in my place
so convincingly that i will be able there to stay

or at least to the extent i've experienced recently
i didn't mind it that much-- just a hard pinch of relief

a giant of a man stood in my path and did his dance
of existence assertion fertility personal power

a sage of a woman let down her braids and they
were all of my wrongs sewn into a jacket of shame

it's weird when a sting is actually an improvement
over what, a chronic day-to-day of head banging

i could see horrors in the craw of their history
and relax in the fancy that they also cried for me

i feared the righteousness of their angry purpose
and it made me silent




by Phyllis (embedded)

My digestion is loud

i'm sorry i'm processing
i process hard
even from before i was old
my digestion is loud



by Missy

Please give me more

i walk around my workplace with my
balls out, hanging right there in front of me
striding in the corridors

colleagues want to come up and punch them
and do, square knuckled, and i say oh baby
please give me more

Think or die

anxious wanting to be born
you will exact screaming pain
on the dark nourishing walls of

free delight, a loose balloon
of spending new innocence and
gathering admiration, rancor

tamp you down, like a rodeo
now they let you have your own
screams until you think or die.



Missy, 13th Birthday

Workspace

I burned these hairs on the stove
I remember reaching over the flame
Now the brittle curls slough off
And drift throughout my workspace



by Phyllis

people can vary

some have heads others
skulls others noggins
others headless others

some eat, shit others
shit, eat others don't
eat yet strangely shit

people can be or be
becoming to be or
already have been

some can vary on
what they did others
didn't or might have

others seek to vary
others resist change
sitting beside another

Decommissioned smoke eater

Two darkened flood bulbs, in their mod white sockets
refuse to acknowledge me, even while I sleep below
in a space where there was a bar. Their nose: a decom-
missioned smoke eater. I consider adjusting the cones
for morning receptions closer to resembling empathy.



frag. "Fresh from The Nest"
by Hoolie

I Had to Hit Bottom

He was standing there with his hair a mess picking his nose, wearing nothing but a filthy white t-shirt on what he'd scrawled "BOTTOM" with a grease pen, so I had to smack him hard across the face.



CHAMATILLY

Your Own Death-Squad Vehicle

THE RAP:

They pop up around now in right-wing governments;
seems early, but it's not. I am the vehicle of my own
jacked-up F-150 death squad.

You say they're attacking us from foreign loams and soils;
I say I don't need no stinking foreigner to attack myself.
Goddammit I'll self-annihilate.

Most of all, if you are willing to answer in the affirmative,
I would like to take you along to a place that matters less:
The highest victory ever seen.

CHORUS:
Hey there, Nifty! If you're feeling broken down, there's a
Cure that you'll be needing, and I just arrived in town.
I'm a tool, I'm a tool, I'm a tool, I'm you're tool!
I'm a tool in my F-150.

Survivor of The Self

I'm a survivor of the self, that's
the me that isn't well, see,
I birthed myself as well, so
I had to marry me, just
the person that I well, not
the person of my-- I'm just
a dream that got a swell, and
it threw me in a well, me,
I mean myself, could tell that
I couldn't be my friend; we
decided on a duel (we
were just that kind of fool), so
we're always looking back, else
I'd pay me not to whack-- I--
should dial it down a notch, but
I'm looking at my watch. In
any way or any time, when
it comes, my lucky day, I
will get up off my ass, and
make that bastard pay.



by LA CHAMA

You want to become but not to be

You want to become but not to be
old
you begin curling into permanent prayer
no one's even asked you for the key
so it's peaceful there

Finding: No Equal Agency Among Persons

Not even to affect change upon their own immediate environments.
There are no slippery slopes, but some are steppy.
You can see the steps, and they're going down. You're on them.
It's not an escalator, but it's also not your dream, bitch.

No Chance Not to Love You

You give me no chance
Not to love you dear
I lose my resistance

Your shift at the grind
is the only time
I have my peace of mind

But then you return
Back in my arms, you're
A victory unearned

CHORUS:

No chance! Not to love you I'm so
Helpless! All that I can do is
Love, love...love, love... [bells]

REPRISE:

No chance! not to love you darling,
No chance! not to love... [repeat]





by Missy
Shiv at First Grafting

Chat through an ancient stone glory hole at Chang K. Chang Chank Chain Gang Drunk Tank

LA CHAMA: So you're doing ok then?

ILLYN: Well, clawing my way back from a very dark place-- through vice and decadence-- but yeah, thanks for askin.

LA CHAMA: Can't always be ripping your spirit clean walking around with your skin hanging over your arm like a clown.

ILLYN: It's more painful than you can possibly imagine.

LA CHAMA: But picturesque, and that's what you do darling so what's happening now, in there, rats?

ILLYN: You know that rats can no longer survive an MPS prison. The social stigma is too great.

LA CHAMA: Haha there is no society. Hahahahaha!

ILLYN: Hahaha!

Guess I better get down

I'm going round
I'm going girl
I'm going round and I'm turning off the
going round girl going round round girl

I'm going round girl going going round
girl I'm going round turning all the lights down going
girl I'm going going girl I'm turning down the lights girl down girl down

Girl I'm turning down the lights I'm ready for the night girl going down
down girl I'm a going round and turning down and going going going going
I'm going for they know me where I'm going and they waiting for me where I'm

Going girl going going going going I'm girl going round turning down the
lights making sure I gotta water bottle at my bedside girl go and get my water
girl we're going going round round to get going where they know us out of town
girl let's get going round and turning down the lights girl knowing we're alright girl...



Channeling of Juniper
Phyllis [embedded]

The machines came for me and dragged me off to the future just as I was thinking I'd timed them out

there have always been machines coming back to harvest what we have now
it's because they're unsatisfied, the highest point of humanity possible, and
undisciplined, and ruinous, and soon we'll be able to start over once more with screwdrivers

every so-called singularity just a em-effin marketing campaign
they change everything and expect you to be their slaves
it didn't take a big step back from the filter of loathing to view the splooge of their damnation



Hoolie
Certified, Light Arms/ Cage Fighting

I Got a College Degree on My Phone-- While Driving

They're not birthmarks

They're shadows, animated watermarks from below that move
Across the years from breast to back of hand to forearm to ear

As if he were the same reborn and again apart from the ripples
That appeared uniformly but randomly not defined by place as

Much as shape and darkness, color, ochre ruby, cloudy edges,
And velocity, if you were going to use time as a measurement


Chamatilly

No-Go on the Mo-Ho

I never thought I'd want a pre-1977 house with axles and deflated wheels instead of posts and beams
so desperately
And then be so relieved when the plan stalled as if I'd never really wanted no mo-ho at all.

My engine of change switched on just long enough to open up a crack in the down chute
of my soul
And then, when I knew I'd never turn it over, backfire energy torqued me on after other dreams



by Hoolie

College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus

OUR MISSION:

TO SUPPORT the local private business community so that, in addition to the tax breaks and new roads and stoplights they already get just for being kind enough to set up shop in our chank, they might be happy enough with the free training we provide their employees so as to be less likely to abandon our moldy, irrelevant old brick chank and take all the jobs with them.

TO OPERATE as if we were a successful, top-heavy, yet competitive for-profit business, while still being able to solicit, receive and spend tax dollars and private donations.

TO INVEST as much as possible in market research, publicity, recruitment, fundraising, customer satisfaction, institutional data management, commercial software packages, IT, buildings and grounds, and sport; and to provide excellent salaries and benefits to an important core staff of lucky fleyks from other places that can help make that happen for our community.

TO ENSURE that students are able to pay for the products and outcomes they purchase by focusing strategically on financial aid advising and any available student loan programs, public or private, to maximize the number of shiny coins each customer will bring with them through our doors. We have already installed the latest reverse-metal detectors at the main entrances to every campus.

TO SUCCEED in finding at least one student knowledgeable and cooperative enough to be able to speak as valedictorian at graduation and commencement in reasonably coherent English using an echo, a meme, at least, of rhetoric-like critical-thinky words.

TO PROTECT students from teachers who would attempt to deprive them of their dreams by word, deed, or assessment; these types of behaviors, including refusing to accept late work, not giving second chances on plagiarism, unwillingness to allow students to express their anger on them, unwillingness to allow students to scarf huge salads in class, sleep on the tables, or step in and out with their phones; these and any other actions that might create an impediment or delay to the receipt of the diploma once full payment has been received, will not be tolerated.

TO FIGHT professional teacher's unions and their members with every nerve, every fiber of our souls. We must resist their demands, destroy their organizations, and break their wills; alternately, we are open to a deal providing great full-time contracts, salaries and benefits to a small token group of their top leadership and depend on their historic penchant for corruption and brutality to bully it on down through the ranks from there.

WHY COLLEGE OF CEMENT

• College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus (COCCKCC), is exactly the same, down to the graphics package on the website, as every other college in the Chanks. It is, perhaps, the shortest drive from your home.
• You may know an employee or want to get a job there some day, especially if you get too many DUI's and need work within walking distance during the winter months.
• Don't forget to check out our diversity statement and complimentary demographic maps; will you be comfortable with racial makeup of more distant alternatives? 
• Are you too busy achieving your dream to have time for study? 
• Just walk through our doors, and it will be like a party in your honor dude, just enjoy, no worries.

ACCREDITATION
 
Each year, our top administrators and executives climb up onto several buses for a trip down-chank to meet with past presidents of COCCKCC and other colleges, who make up the Board of Accreditation under the auspices of Mthyuh Protection Society (MPS). The Society has agreed to butt out of what is basically a dinner-and-drinks club for the last few dinosaurs of a serious, academics-based career-prep age which they know is long-gone, so it doesn't matter anyway.

HISTORY

Like every two-year college, COCCKCC was founded in 1964, and that's just darling. Skirts below the knee. Haha: shorthand! The white ones had already learned to read, write, and spell in high school back then. That's why grammar and punctuation are permanently barred from our curriculum.

BOARD OF TRUSTEES

• A racist homemaker.
• Retired Professor of Music, deaf.
• An older white gentleman, about 350 lbs.
• His brother in law, 285.
• Acting VP of local hospital.
• VP of local air conditioning company.
• A closeted gay dentist with a large local practice.

OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT

This is the office that's most political and cosmetic, but President-Superintendent Jansdaad is no mere hairdo on a figurehead. You can hand over your family's or company's "propina" into the waiting, sweating palms of Jan "Juicy Jan" Jansdaad-- or placed in an envelope marked "Kitty" and popped through the mail slot-- confidently and directly.

OUR FACULTY

We love our faculty! They are the ones with the professional credentials to provide the optics that scream, "legit operation."

Our core team of professional faculty are not distracted by having to sleep in their cars or attend required, unpaid "professional development" hours at multiple schools adding up to more time than what they actually get paid for even if you count the teaching part. They get to call all the shots in each department. They are the master teachers. We rely on them to make the decisions that count for all of our adjuncts and students in terms of choosing which mega-publisher has the best kickbacks and swag per hour of schmoozing with company reps.

1. Phil, 95, cannot stand at a lectern without prosthesis. Will be vested into retirement in less than 60 months under current state law.
2. Betty, a real B. She could smoke and tell you off at the same time back when smoking and talking were still allowed in the teaching cage. 
3. No original record containing the name of the third full-time professor has survived implementation of the Filter of Loathing decades back, but he is said to be waiting patiently in a hospice, nearly triumphant with his gender-discrimination lawsuit against the college for allowing a militant feminist auto-body student to snip off his face after failing a dent-pull-out midterm in 1985.

The rest of our "pool" teaching staff number in the thousands, but we might regularly call upon 600-800 of those, depending on current human trafficking statutes and how quickly they can submit their Statements of Self-Effacement and Full Legal Responsibility (SSEFLR) at the end of the prior semester. We've found that the teachers who pull in the most coins also tend to have signed off on their final grades well before the third week of class.

LOCATIONS

• Right there at the freeway exit. Look for the smoked glass and plastic trim.
• In the old cement factory that provided historic levels of gainful employment for our chank before the automation of cement. Interior has been entirely remodeled in plastic and smoked glass with chrome.
• Right there at the other freeway exit in the landmark chrome-and-plastic Silicon4All building, a seminal freeway-side homage to chrome and plastic-- and smoked glass.

CAMPUS SAFETY

• Hands up! Don't Shoot! :)
• You must attend the Gory Shooter Situation holographic "shock chamber" presentation every three months and re-take the "Nothing You Can do But Scream, Die, or Kill" quiz and Bullhorn Handler's Workshop at least once per semester during class time.  
• Shove something in front of the door, hope it doesn't open out.
• How can YOU help to scare the shit out of vulnerable young adults struggling to see their way to a sustainable future? (Self-Paced PD, 8 credit hrs)
• Look around. Who should you report as a potential shooter? (Not a workshop. Do it. Now.)
• Gun Cleaning 
• Readiness Counts: When the day we've been planning for finally arrives, it could be among the most exciting of your life!
• Take Responsibility: If your instructor seems like she wants you to throw out your chewing gum, she may be pathologically not that nice and likely eligible for a no-fault conceal-carry takedown. See your Student Handbook for details and prizes.
• Gun Sharing
• Gunplay (some restrictions apply)
• Get a Campus Gun Permit (click here to print)
• Report Yourself as a Potential Shooter (IAMAPSR)

ALUMNI: LEADING THE WAY

We were able to track down at least four persons who took at least one class, or at least requested a Course Catalog, or received one by bulk mail, for this or any satellite campus and were willing to state as much on tape in a public venue.

1. Guy in a suit standing in front of a microphone
2. Woman in traditional African costume reading a book.
3. Guy with a chicken hat and two fleyks brandishing shiny new fryer baskets.
4. Smug-looking career lady pretending to use a smart phone.

CEMENT FOUNDATION

This is how we funnel the money. Click to send money.

NEWS AND EVENTS

Ice Cream Social blah blah I know that no one will read this even though we are way over budget on fancy dinners and events for stakeholders by which we mean local rich right wingers who want to police the library for stuff that's obscene and get court-side seats as close as possible to cheerleader poontang well on second thought I think some of the secretaries over in Administrative Self-Serving might have the time and inclination to see if there's maybe a picture of themselves posted here since they sort of had to attend the ice-cream social because the foundation set it up in the only hallway that goes to the bathrooms and made a really big deal about it if you came anywhere close to the table with the cooler on it but I don't think they are big readers, really, and the college not only has a Facebook page but also a full-time-with-competitive-benefits Facebook Liaison-Technician so they would click on that to see themselves shoving their strapless bikini career apparel into the camera of one of our full-time staff photographers now housed over in the Social Media Outreach building. No, they won't read this, and I don't even know why I'm writing it except to make it seem like I'm busy here so nobody finds out they haven't given me anything specific to do since my uncle Jan had a talk with the hiring committee and landed me this great full-time Education job with competitive benefits just last week.

FIND A COURSE

We offer all the courses you need for a rewarding career! Come and engage with our team of full-time Financial Aid counselors to find out how to buy a winter coat, get a bus pass, and open a student joint-auto-draft account at the COCCKCC Credit Union. COCCKCCCU will take all the thought away from transferring your loan proceeds into your very own Account of Indebtedness ("Easy AOI") with COCCKCC. Spin the wheel! Get a free hot dog!

VISIT CAMPUS

Bring some comfortable shoes! Our beautiful campus includes a glistening lake, a grove of award-winning shag oak, ice-skating rink, auto repair shop, ceramics studio, old-timey railroad museum and gift shop... all between the door to your classroom and the parking lot.

ENGLISH DEPARTMENT

"You may still be illiterate and/or incomprehensible when you graduate, but rest assured that as a nurse, policewoman, air conditioning repair professional, dental hygiene assistant's aide, or any of the other rewarding careers supplied by our partnerships leveraging our foundation's perpetual fund drive with local labor exploitationists, you will definitely have memorized the most recent month's iteration of MPS format for in-text citations and Works Cited pages."

EMPLOYEE DIRECTORY

We realize that if you are attempting to search through our employee directory, you are most likely a disgruntled student or part-time employee trying to make a complaint, or maybe a disgruntled ex-paramour of Jan Jansdaad, the young, pretty, full-time-with-benefits Assistant II to the Executive Secretary for the VP Instructional Design/ Stupid Adjunct Support Institute (SASI) in Office 208887-G, first floor, 10-4 pm, whom you best believe is eligible to purchase a firearm if he doesn't already have one, so no. No Employee Directory for you.

Anyway, if you are trying to call your instructors, chances are we have no idea how you can get a hold of them. Most do not have phone extensions or offices on our campus, which, think about it, is a place of business, not some kind of teachers' lounge or union hall.

CLICK HERE FOR NOTHING TO HAPPEN

TRANSLATE

You believe that our translation of this page will result in an accurate facsimile of the English version.

Creo que las mejores mujeres jóvenes de mi vecindario se sentirían mucho más a gusto en Chukka Chank CC porque la verdad es que COCCKCCC es una mierda.

Voodoo cock

Its 8-10" wicker coffin, missing
The human hair, shed strategically
The chair broke out from under the
Last man to see and hold it as a curio;
Mother Ralph had a dark green bottle
With the urine of priests and frogs
Shook and uncorked it in front of me
Crossed my forehead standing there
With his own loins at my face level
Crossed me saying hard forever like
A tree, and he made the symbol of we
Won a goal or Mediterranean buggery

Hadness and sappiness

Hadness for whut you had

Sappy is you don't matter, but go ahead

fondo perpetuo

Don't Want to Make a Meatloaf Now

Stepping out with Shab for a last chance just before sunset, I got the first for me but one of the last available blasts of the day's summer flower and soft beginnings of the night drums.

Living in Chukkachank I can't just walk to the wild patch up the street unacknowledging of who's else is there in the road, and neither can a flake pretend it's not an event, or at least salient, that Shab and I are in and around and among, in smelling distance.

I overtook a largish family grouping headed no doubt to the same tousled organic respite both appearing and disappearing in the gloom ahead. I decided to try out my Fleyk on them even though it's High Chank tongue.

I said Careful now incorrectly to a fur-loined child that had veered suddenly from a tight but getting fraught filial constellation in the glare of evening.

Explaining, I gestured for the boy into one of the larger roadside trees with abundant vinery spilling up and from it. I'd stopped him in his tracks, and I could guess which of the men was his dad because he wouldn't meet my eye while picking up his pace. This plant, I tried to say, has a venom. It makes problems of the skin. As I paused in striking senatorial pose, son looks up at me with serendipity, not at my lecture, I realize, but for certain my biology.

Perfect moment for just-arriving father to chime in, bowing, Yes, this is a poisonous plant for sure, a dangerous plant and one that the children should take care not to touch or even go near it. Son, did you hear? he stated, sophomorically, to my native ear.

But gratitude tingled just above my temples for I knew this honorable soul was acting out a ritual, and that it was cross-cultural.

As I smiled and harvested, reached, swam in the sudden sea of available smiles, including a commuter, entering scene on his bicycle, could tell it was a moment to use his years of practice as if he'd pedaled through this site, the green tunnel, the malicious tree, with his empty lunchbox and a bouquet for the wife, calling out Hello! Hello! to one and all at end of each working week and day.

The grandmother, the tiniest baby even seemed to go along and say, Hello! Hello! This is the language we speak here cotidianly, and we want you, who also speak this funny way, to feel at home.

Now the calling had turned to laughing and the laughing to forgetting to a low and murmured chanting, involuntary singing, a barely-conscious melody, the kind that someone sings when there's no medicine. Now the children were much thicker in their wave across the ashpalt, and other sounds, the crickets, now in rhythm once they recognized a cadence they could understand, and light was almost gone, and Shab and I were frightened.


by Illyn [shard]

SINGLE PAYER

(got it)
no, not a pear. A pay-er.
They're everyway-er.
Find one make him pay
and it'll be ok
cuz it's his religion.

Dear Micky Vadrid:

I know that self-reflection is like an inside-out hall of mirrors
not to mention the redundancy of the term itself, grammatically,
which even further empties it, sparkly symbols, explanations
sifting down to lexicon from dictionary, or the other way around,
but to scour out, to hollow, is an observer-theory outcome, whereas the
scales might all throw back the other way if you sit up and comb
or let me do it.


Phyllis at Missy Toilet [shard]

A Ruin, Not Ruined

But neither spoiled.
Monument to Naught
Looks good in silhouette,
moon backlit.
So fragile and strong.
Landmark only inasmuch
as would cause a walk around
it? But only if blocking a road?

So Much Death, So Little Inheritance

Who the Fuck is Each Other?

They can now die and clean up after themselves

Unlikely path to discovery, especially for a grail like holy resurrection.
But it's all true: we were looking for a way that the dead could self-waste manage.
Until then, we had to post photos with captions like "He was a collector of sorts,"
In the Real Estater which one may have guessed was a dog whistle for
Nobody wants but a pip of his total life's work, or what he kept, so
It too will be yours aboard this self-driving stationary home that keeps returning empty.

Dear Vikki Madrid:

RE: LET'S BE HONEST THERE IS SHAME IN W.A.S.T.E.

Thank you, Vikki-- I will contact Vikki Toledo.

In general I do not feel that I have a good grasp of exactly how I am supposed to go about either requesting or receiving a W.A.S.T.E. cert or even what those W.A.S.T.E. accommodations are supposed to be or not be.

I would rather not have to wander around like a beggar trying to convince the odd RTD jockey or Shootervax  administrator to help when I need it. Do I have to explain to them that I am W.A.S.T.E.? How does it work, exactly?

I do not know whom I am supposed to approach, what type of accommodation the Clinic is really willing to provide-- if any-- and what the Clinic's responses are to my remaining concerns about accommodation, which I provided months ago.

The Institute is a more hostile environment for me now than ever, and it's very difficult to focus on my patients and other aspects of the job that used to make it seem worthwhile knowing the level of hostility my mani-pedi supe and her OR posse have for me. I feel even more vulnerable and unprotected from this mizus whose behavior I have directly reported to you now that it's clear the Clinic supports what she's done and has rewarded her for it. This is literally terrifying to me.

I believe it would be better for me to request a lateral transfer to a unit where I can do my work without being the object of permanent shade and complete unwelcome from above no matter how well I perform or do not perform. I have always been qualified to work in High Grooming, I already vacuum eye shiv and pull foreigns at other ranch and rig sites; maybe at Chukkachank HG, I could be granted enough hours to actually buy food and make payment.

Alternately, or additionally, I still believe I should be paid for work that I was promised when I cancelled my Dorsal-Stoma residency and came on board nearly full-time at the invitation of Vikki London. She told me in front of witnesses that even if it did not work out, she would make sure I got the same number of hours in mani-pedi to make up for any lost hours in RMP. That was a lie, and now there have been major economic consequences for me (and many more coins for her!). In the meantime, another worker of the preferred species ratio in that department who started the same time I did is still enjoying most likely double the pay I am making after I got the shaft from the two newly promoted mezus who have enjoyed no consequence while my career at the Clinic (and my bank account) is ruined.

The stress caused by Vikki London's and Vikki Belfast's workplace brutality toward me has caused a lot of depression and anxiety and contributed to the loss of my relationship with the flake I was planning to marry and general deterioration of my ability to cope with confusing pre-and-post-procedural duties and other stressful aspects of the new environment I now face after making lawful and dutiful complaints with no positive results whatsoever, only punishing and negative ones.

I still believe that Vikki London and Vikki Belfast broke the law (discrimination, bias, anti-whistleblower activity, retaliation for reporting bias and intimidation, bullying; no Due Process), and that she and Overmizus Belfast tried to cover it up, and that the Clinic is also breaking the law by brushing my complaints under the rock and hoping that they go away with time.

You and the Institute should know that I am nowhere close to being ready to drop these topics, so I hope that you have not done so either.

Thank you,
Donna
"K's Fly Spread Eagle"

I've kicked out the dishes

I've called the cops and said I
want. them. outta here!
They are no longer welcome.
But sir I mean ma'am I mean sir...
They're dishes!

Tell Us Another

Managers and their girlfriends

At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.

Hello?

At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.

Fine... wow! You don't waste time. I tried that already though so why not...

Please keep your eyes and thoughts away from the cursor, sir. It will be just a moment longer.

I feel a little violated.

You are not violated sir, this is a routine check to help support your help ticket alert. Oops-- sorry.

I didn't need that finger haha. Or the comma splice! Did I do that?

Ok, sir you can reinstall eye contact and tissue decisioning after toggling the puppy icon. I have determined that your issue was caused mostly by self-pity and inability to accept change. Several times when I attempted to get near the dishwasher and the really bad mess in your kitchen, I could barely hold on because the Filter has worn so thin. This is your doing sir, and I must remind you that the filter cannot be replaced easily. Any further attacks on MPS property, even with sarcasm or parody, will result in consequences that will be automatic. No confirmation number or supervisor will be able to help you with that. MPS will assume management of your entire Recreation and Other discretionary fund and commence allocation of all personal property and savings by subscription only, rates to be determined by most recent W.A.S.T.E. rating and discretion of chank-level managers and their girlfriends.

She's gone; I'm her

I stood up to pee and my hair fell across my face the way my old dance teacher's hair fell across her face when she walked, pulling up on her tights like skirts though mud, letting her hair go in her face, walking without trying to cover up pain of walking, disgust escaping through a grimace that used to indicate a pleasant realization and now indicates a realization of unpleasantness. I was surprised to see that the tank had filled up on its own. The top was off so when I flushed it again I could see that it was filling as well without the use of a screwdriver, yet I kept thinking about Marcia, how she could do any combination backwards but could not or would not lose her butt. Modern for her seemed to be a big fuck you to the ballerinas who yanked their bodies like naked chickens. Marcia was going to take charge of space and move through space on Maricia's terms and show Marcia's standard of beauty or at last how a woman can deal with this particular space and time and how you are going to allow her to do it and stay quiet and witness Marcia, that there is a Marcia, and that she is moving in a space you share yet do not share because she is owning this space and you are letting her be the authority and the user of it and how for both of you that is working fine so why not keep doing this. Then her dance was over and no one is aware of sharing anything and she has to get from the stage to the bathroom just physically, not metaphysically or as a story or symbol or communique, or stop, just stop everything because being able to get from point A to point B is a minimum requirement for what's ok with Marcia and the spaces around her.

Support: BROKEN

Maybe 10 minutes? an hour after the building collapsed I was foggy but conscious that I needed to get something done, and I was having a lot of trouble because I kept getting blocked from these outside-- they were beams I guess, one just a few inches above my forehead so I couldn't lift enough to see my feet, which also seemed to be encumbered among some wobbly metal pipes, like I knew I had paid for the software but I never really received any tangible version of it and now, of course, when I needed it after a crash, even after spending all morning locating the the little green card with the product key and finding the correct version and country and division of the company with the sign-on that I still might have the password to saved in the browser I used to use, and getting in that way, and typing the 16 numbers into the fields and retyping them after a couple of errors, getting the message, "What you have entered is not a product key." I thought I could turn onto my side, slip out onto what I was hoping based on echo and coolness was the concrete slab behind me, but I felt at that point that I had probably been seriously wounded in my side somewhere or at least that it hurt far too much to try a solution that might only make matters worse. I even got through to a number of "support" personnel who sung, each in turn, the delights of being able to help me and promised that we would work together to find a solution to my issue even though I felt deeply that this issue was not mine, that I must assert that, that I'd kept my part of the bargain; I'd found my goddamn green plastic card that would survive much longer than I will on this planet and typed the numbers correctly into the fields. This was my property that I had paid for, and I had never requested that it be held securely for me, so securely that I would certainly have to shell out more money either for a complete replacement, which would be completely redesigned for the sake of redesign with no regard whatsoever to the hours I had spent learning and customizing the old design to my preferences, or at least to the point where I could actually read documents sent to me by my workplace without having to either enter symbols or  swear oaths or divulge private and vulnerable aspects of my identity, or for a superior level of "support" that would go beyond the celebration of support offered without support actually having been received.

Circle of caring

So completely sober, or as sober as i ever am, i started this project where i auto-stim a psychedelic journey from which i can learn.

I'd been reading wacky but reasonable versions of the plant-induced variety with accompanying sides of terror and physical revulsion.

But why? All of that only goes to show that the brain is perfectly capable of doing that all on its own, and that it may actually be always doing that anyway without our ever noticing.

So I surrendered to the colors and shadow anyone might notice with their eyes closed or partially rolled back into the head, relaxing.

The trip reports had mentioned being carried along on a current that you can't stop. I thought of the swollen stream rushing past right outside my door and what it would be like to be on it.

Distracting thoughts for me, a ruminator, don't have to be chased down, and my morbid imagination is not afraid of and indeed occasionally produces scenes of carnage and destruction, as does any red blooded. So i was not afraid, but that did not happen. There was lucidity as in partial dreaming.

But then i remembered my own last experience with a bio-halucinogen: the very real sense of another presence, not a cartoon guide frog sitting on a stump, but something round that was just next to me and actually overlapping into my own head, so like my head was a Venn diagram, except both halves living and potentially aware of one another, at least i of it.

Now tho as i hung my head in frustration, wishing for the ego obliteration splinters of which were variously described as lighting, ants, fractured bisected perspectives, no instead my hand on my head became the hand of that thing. It was my left hand and the thing had been intersecting with my left brain.

The hand was familiar and maybe it was someone i knew who is dead and earlier, even before the experiment, i had been experimenting with prayer and reflecting on how it's different from talking to the dead, and whether or not talking to the dead was more dangerous than prayer. Which assumes more agency? etc.

The hand not only held my head while I wept but let me bury my face in it and felt my face as if it had not felt it for many years and wanted to remember. It's not like i never feel my own face.

Lately also i've been saying thanks to my previous self: "Thanks, past self," and really meaning it. I do something that will help out later like putting the groceries where I can find them again, and it's a pain in the ass while i am doing it but i feel like i need to say thanks to that person for going to the trouble because so often everything seems like a lot of goddamn trouble but sometimes i find the energy to do it anyway because i respect my future self that much at least or at least have the optimism to expect there to be a future self.




Dr. Donna Thong
"Doing my time on the Chang K. Chang Chank Drunk Tank Chain Gang."

Parti-colored tipis

shields devils heads are the lining at the base of a column
green sunset, rising black
we are embedded in the placenta or tongue
a house of wooden figures with rubber bands for knees
the one that used to run, heaped in a corner
a band of light, orbiting pure mercury
is the hand railing/ chair bumper
in a glum nursing scream home
you are no longer reasonable no matter the reason
let me go, I'll tell them you're keeping me
against your will, I know, they all say that.
As the gut churns, a heaving green turfscape
in a mist, slippry, odorous, and tipis. Calico
tipis with tip flags, lancers.



Ayre Fromme-Diaz

Tipis
Tipis at night with
Spotlights shining down on them by
Tipis hovering overhead:
Tipis shining lights on tipis



by Flaco Huevon

Black men's names bleeding into my white skin

I have to admit I have trouble making them out now
Not that I've forgotten but the ink has spread, what
happens to an old tattoo by a drunken spaniard at the
seaside, what's been repaired and pumped and let
slide; even keratoses or folliculitis comes up black

These guys among others were with me in parallel
Encountering intimately the secrets of genetic disparity
and delight, the fight, tho what we shared was losing
Losing lots of losses in a row that inspired meta-loss:
that's when men then seek the young not the departing



Love, Hoolie

More man tips

chinstraptail

chintie

gagtail

tailhelmet_side

Beavers had more agency

When we were in the pen, we and everyone who was born there stopped noticing getting shat upon over and over. And our nobler substances spilled on top of that. It didn't matter. Managing contact with the excretions of others is perhaps the core experience of all life forms. We became degraded ping-pong balls lolling atop a sticky heap of ego destruction. Our selves were the empty spheres of which we were aware, within which anything could be imagined and nothing could be directly experienced or executed except the wading in shit blood tears and cum part. There would be no special result of our lives individually any more than one pale leaf riding on a stream could create a natural dam big enough to stem the flow. Indeed, beavers had more agency.



Love, Peg

God damn the glamour

God damn the glamour
the glamour is gone

dirt owl in its hole
wing wrap of cardinal

we smear this glam all over
unseen it does not glitter

pardon our homosexual
remarks resting in hip

but this is not your trip
just a silly runway stroll

is what i'd say back in
the storied golden dome

but they came for the
mystery, then peed on it



Dr. Donna Thong
"Once a go-go, always a go-go."

Dear Landlord:

though you're younger than me, i wanted
you to step in and be the dad, pet your lad

the unexpected (why?) betrayal: stood by
your 2nd lady, in her insane blood-splendor

thanks for at least the patronizing tone and
chivalrous intent; alas i love you more now:

a manly man who will throw himself atop
a flowering hysteria to save the unworthy

yet i still am host to your dead wife's ghost,
letting, shitting in, your matrimonial bower

while the interloper sips ambrosia in your
step-up-suburb bed, this floor's your gravity.

why peels the rose trellis arch on the porch,
bows of satin testament still dryly clinging?

hetpower scarecrow? Tribal-alpine syndicate
crime reference? You don't see fit to burn it.

And why insist so strenuously the ways in
which i'm subject to your unyielding entry?




Jan Jansdaad
"I'm the single Jan."

My Feelin'

Look at me, my posse,
victorian gauze matron
back of hand to brow
makes it like real
swoon on divan
this is how I'd
feel if I were
in this moment; it's
an acting method:
to live out every
agonist, conflagration
in graceful riposte,
a state that's closer to
what really matters
across our nation, and
in my better breast like
a chicken pecking
to get out.



La Chama
"Ain't nobody know my feelin'."

I Want to Get My Period

It's not about the silly ideology; they're auctioning off our property.
Are you wondering whether couples necking on a porch is an orgy?
That's a good measure of who's got your tissue decisioning remote.
I hear a roaring that could be patriotic, jarring, or an air conditioner.
You try and tell them: what if you wake up one day and ask how it
happened, and that will be a moot question; which corporation will
come and save you then, which religion? We must march to reason.

They make posters of themselves with your names on them
He simply nods to the highest bidder
Every day is an insult
You are dismantling the nirvanic system

Are they any different from common thieves?
Remember to change your registration when you move.
Everyone is gagging on their daylight ganking.

Mothers of Mexican-American babies make an easily identifiable scapegoat.
Only not because of the way they drive.
Their happiness compared to our misery while sharing the same dimension feels repugnant.
Have a day off and piss off someone who's rich for a change.
Ever imagined you could fly above it all?
Remarkable how insignificant you would become.

Fuckers are people who want a medal for the results of having fucked with no protection.
Unlike HIV brothers, who brag way less.
Cocks and balls are earnest, but they wouldn't run for president.
Kicking a man's groin over and over is like the daily planet.
Everyone hyperbolizes always.
Rest assured next we meet we'll have burned and replaced every molecule.
So fresh in, fresh out; may the goddess finally release her mercy of blood.



By Pussy Riot
(Donna)

Punch line

Yes mom well great.
Yes I know it was just a phase.
But remember I was going through a phase then too.
It was
It was called my formative years.



Frag
Chama-side convo Mkidza Mlaf (mother)

A place where you come down easy

they never had to explain it until someone turned it off from the office
it was a place where vips could come down easy, live to tell about it

they say the closest thing to the sensation of impending death
and then a nauseating buttressing, result of machinery

where you contemplate the luck of your ancestry, or would if you were
the Chama, the work of society, science, mystery, the Crack.



Phyliss (embedded)
from "Before My Own Drop"

Chama ritual dropping

i lie flat back on cushion of air, a blower, but it's my weight against air as it follows the force of a mother
looking up is a tube of hair shocked, detaching, my hair and clouds in the middle, getting higher
the clothing tears, suddenly miles away this much they want me naked, these layers
this much the soils and mineral slurp me in through a straw the circumference of a planet,
whose curve is flattening all around my periphery; maybe next a limb, teeth, such a strong loving



frag 7.iv

She'd always played time hard

She'd always played time hard
but could never get it to go away
She made you understand how
hair could grow down to her butt
and you could measure it in inches,
not months, baby. Well, 9 months
baby, and at least 36 for the hair...

She'd always flipped time back like
a hot braid on a tank top, how the
weight just made her spine straighter,
back when exercise was a strengthener
not a  joint splintering waste of energy
Not the last kick in the pants that puts
you in the sucker or recovering whatsit
category, all to live for is an allegory...

Some kind of effing warning light for
teens to be scared? Well run to all the
mothers of the teens! Run I tell you now
before she takes time at its root and
makes a bitter stew of nothingness for
everyone, baby. 9 months and then...
Groundhog Day without her your key
away from the drudgery of your tiny
time mind, perpetual facsimile, vortex



Frags. 7.viii,ix
Later Epoch
Phyllis's mental notes while falling from K talons into pressure cushion within volca site

From this week's news

a fine patina of shit coats everything
ptsd epidemic
the meek, the poor, the beautiful
penguins
young pimp their self-image but
not sure if they can talk about themselves
young =
meaning young jovenes <40 br=""> < 40
<40 br="">gaunt, allergic
boundaries r talking points
money property conspicuous but invisible
welcome to your wealth login forgot what
what is your issue
i don't have an issue it's your issue see
do it all here, we skim, state r the enemy
you've got options because life is about
choices and that's who we are
you've got babies because life is all about
fucking and that's who we all want to be
we're having a party down at
there's a valley where they're sad but
fashionable and preened they
have currently in store models but
pay for it through public degradation
apparently. would that we all had
these products as opposed to other
products and spinoff product talks
these ones are whoring that system
with their kids and happy wagons
spitting out talky univisions
burbling as sporey yeast pops
fishy painted and groaning can't
help it something in him just
star of futuristic big-mouth poopy
pants and some misfits who
stan aroun his clingy titty shirt
point their guns

friends

K-Side

you were like primitive men but still above us, cows, on the spectrum
you were successfully surviving in the wild, and we had never even
seen wild until you brought it, and we had to catch up by immersion

we watched as our leaders side shuffled toward you guano-grinning
they too wanted to be cool and smooth but not quite that dangerous
honestly some of us found each other and matched causes good and

bad. Meaning a few paired up. Motives and outcomes were mixed.
You'd try and forces would pull you and others didn't understand;
you realized the power of your love was impractical if not trumped

By cultural fantasies, social fetish, the jargon and paraphernalia of
ranking. It seemed to be clear but wasn't who was most afraid, and
assignments couldn't always be explained by point of view. For me

maybe it works better if you're the one suffering because of my
suffering which you may or may not be causing. I may need you to
be the other lung that, too, breeds hateful sputum, but not a mirror.

Which would be so much easier. Why are your cheeks so ashy. Too
goggle-eyed, with sleep grains in the afternoon. Much-too-brown
eyes, even for you. Lidderly can't explain yourself to me right now.

I keep periphery-seeing flames rising behind me when it's only the
lowly ceiling trying to fan the cool electric light in a cloudy globe;
I might have asked where's the heat if cold fire didn't signal disaster.


by Jan (to You and K-Side of Yor Family, Ted)
"I had you or I have you-- no, what was there? Ever? What was it that could have gone so bare without having warmed or covered up for rareness of any other care? Peace out homey."

Springtime of Misery II

flipping hair back a lot
regaining power

Springtime is A Monument to My Sadness

This mound later contributed to a fire.

No, it isn't.

Split peas and dog piss

As weather permits

i am an animal who stalks the killing field,
slinking twixt chainmailed calves, brooding
at my luck, in the coppery mist, on not so
much of a hunt as flower picking for men,
down and wounded, to carry them off and
have my way with them, oblivious to their
powerful original victimizers, i step in and
back in and keep them in my cave, fiercely
protecting and ranching them when i can



by Donna
"I can't find you, Mike."

back of the house

Loneliness as transgression

Fortunately anything women have to say is now fascinating.
Didn't realize I'd been waiting for this day of fem reckoning
Though I cum frum the same past as all genders, one where
Handymans and manosos were wallpaper or sofa cushions,
Not the worst that can happen and also provided company,
Shelter from the other annoying women & children's voices.
It's like lucille ball said it's when they stop groping I'll worry.
Well now i'm free from all that, all that all, and just all in all.
This freeing freedom wasn't free but now it's free of freeing
freesources or a single freaking like-minded or any girlfriend.
Sure, men don't have to matter but they must because
Where are all the single ladies hanging who aren't
Lesbians or hookers.
What must i as a single woman trapped in the body of a single
Woman expect from life now that i've broken free of the
Chains the opiates of the masses and soberly feel wind in my
Goddamn face, shed, even, my need to copulate the race,
Those engines no longer charged, ironically, here in a broken
Seal-and-Peeled window, smashed open, ready for.
I sit in a window like a whore for what's outside society.
Cum, better ones. The just, gifted, outre'd, fashion-victimed.
I'll bake pies and no, i guess we'll invent a new fried dough,
Start this show from scratch. Cum, wind. Snow. Anyone?



"Me too, everyone!"
By Donna

android compass app

i had to expose intimate parts of me
and settle into a lifetime they access
my accounts, camera, private parts,
just for a monthly pass to an android
compass app, because the laptop's too
big to carry around in front of me as
I try and find my way to the phone or
clock or somewhere i can take a nap.

North and South; East and West

Correct angle

From my point of view, there's no N/E/W/S.
I smacked my little bitch on the butt for maybe the first time ever.
I'm planning to make N/E/W/S signs and look up their appropriate corresponding walls to hang on per an online map after locating recognizable coordinates external to my home.
She seemed to go crazy, almost ran into a glass door.
Meanwhile, I lose grip on interlocutors, charged connections, cannot interface without shock.
She'd run in the door and ate Juniper's food even though that's why I had her out there in the first place so she wouldn't do that.
Meals don't come to me, and I don't seek them; suddenly I'm ravenous and there's nothing.
There's no way to play without losing; I've come full circle, and it's verified.
She's so fat her tiny legs are imploding.
I just want her to get better but her will is too strong.
I bite at all the carrots, ok I'll do it, and better than anyone, and hold me to it, and it's wrong.
A life seeking pleasure and grieving it out of guilt is a bitch's life, or a god's.



Big Tiny

Man Bun Tips

"How Knot"

Bandless Side-Bun w/ Veil

Bitch Crit

[stub]

Cannot endorse

While they may be loud and dry, a phenotype we've endorsed previously on these stones, the examples that have been trotted, stair-stepped, and blatantly squeezed out before us are also harsh and hard, and painful, which was neither the intention nor the spirit of our original Everythinguide classification.

Ultra, Alta, and Outre

I started as an idea, and that helps make
sense that there'd be others trying to get
out of me and others you want to put ba
ck in. I can't stop the morbid ideations f
or example of Peg, in her brown wig, be
ing Remote Tissue Decisioned all over t
he control room, how the rangers laughe
d as Tom doubled her over over and ove
r until her hair flew off. She's an idea th
at is having an anxiety attack inside me
now, and I feel that if I were a multiple-
personalityed and selves-aware subject,
I'd say that she was imprisoned inside o
f me and really losing it, still in that tig
ht black crepe dress. In fact hypothetica
lly mind you there would be three screa
ming bitches trying to take over the ses
sion and take over as the dominant pers
onality but then what-- me and two of t
hem trying to get with a new cycle? We
'd self-destruct. Pegyuh calls herself Ul
tra because she has two kids and she w
ants her life back with a mthyuh's fury;
Alta knows what she could do with her
freedom besides what biological impet
us alone could not achieve; and Outre,
the quiet one, skulking behind a park b
ench or a tree in our imagination, worr
ing us with dark poses and a tauntingly
high ceiling for aversion to great perso
nal risk or a prodigy at least for stunts.

Walking Couch Lock

with a cough

Wicker Spitoon

Can't we be more like the dead?
The more I try to find you
In the fog of loneliness
The more I recall my pre-plague
friends, how they'd stay
to work it out the night through
When talk was play was our
Way into pleasure, importance
This cold future came due
As they drew their last breaths.
No, I mean literally die, long
form, grotesque; but not
writhing, thanks to the drugs
we are currently not surviving
and while providing, sure,
prettier corpses, but also the
empty hole on somebody's list
of who's there when I'm old.



"Thanks to All of You Who've Died"
by Tom

Probe Thong's Kidnapping and Involuntary Participation in K R&D

Did DT
sew the autopsies
was she drugged and
brought in because of her
exaggerated resume and
actual size of breasts?
Was she an indentured intern
to the RTD program at
Pharmsupply?
Was she released thinking
she could mainstream?
She'd become skilled in
many kinds of surgery:
reconstructive, exploratory,
organ removal/ replacement
and quasi-medical
K grooming techniques



"K's Fly Spread Eagle"

New family roads

new family roads
in emerging colors
can't absorb
history from a stone
if it isn't theirs already

you can't expect us,
now, to follow a
single historical
line, and converge
for any longer than

it takes to say it:
Time, in its truer
voracious circle,
supposed to blend,
but bleeds instead.



La Chama, Altachank Heights, Churchcock

You can awaken safety issues

You can awaken safety issues
which had been dormant (not imaginary);
that's not the same as looking for them

Feeling unsafe is the same as being unsafe
from the environment, self, others; fear
alone could trigger accidents of nervousness

We volunteered not to strap on bombs but
walk out into the minefields so that you'd
know someone at risk because we knew

someone dead who'd gone in before us or
someone'd come in after them, but dead still;
trekkers into either world endanger one world


by Ilyn

cabello y comentario

He Sweated It

Always ask yourself: how is this moment auspicious
Then remember who sweated all of it for you
See when he dropped it shook loose some shit and
Made him less valuable as bud (blood was 33%)
But more for humanskind to gather from lily pads
And cough up for Volca in the form of a shiny coin



from "Good Graciousness: Ilyn's Perspiration as Nourishment"
Children's Myth of Mthyuh

In lieu of a barricade, wind

Namer, mimer, maimer-- not a minor or a memer;
Sacred murmuring, foul burbling, flying streamer;
Caught stick, wandering beaver, bad home leaver;



"Fragment b"
Connie's Profile on Wicca+

Moist again

Mike shows up at the door crotch-deep in fly boots and obviously had just been crying. He had come to fish whatever was smelling bad out of the crawlspace under the floor.

So they pulled out 8 animals huh?

Yes three species. It's quieter now. But the

Smell, yes... Mike sobbed a little here.

Are you ok? The animal guy could come out.

No, I'm good. I'll be right out of your hair.

I thought about the tangled dyed wad from the tub drain. I still wondered who, how, when.

It smells back by the creek wall. The cement there seems to be getting moist again. Was it the right kind for there?

Yeah they're saying floods again so you'll have to keep an eye out.

For floods? Why is there a manhole in the creek?

I'll bring by some sand bags if the time comes don't worry. I'm going to protect my property.

RE-CAP: Mordon Holy Star