This is a work of fiction. This is ONLY a work of fiction. Any nouns involved in similar events is purely coincidental (and pretty damn hilarious!)
Month: February 2017
BAD SPEECH WRITING
“Thank you. It's great to be at Trump Tower. Some of the candidates, they went in. They didn't know the air-conditioner didn't work. They sweated like dogs. When was the last time you saw a Chevrolet in Tokyo? It doesn't exist, folks. China comes over and they dump all their stuff, and I buy it. … Continue reading BAD SPEECH WRITING
Memories of the Son
I remember the sun- its light of a thousand moments, all vying for their fifteen minutes. Scratching at the sorrow of another yesterday while shivering up to a dumpster- society’s leftovers; served up on a concrete platter. I remember her eyes. Electric spheres of blue rising over an imperfect smile- the smoking gun clenched … Continue reading Memories of the Son
Cat Litter (a haiku)
Hard, reaching fingers Scraping your surface- combing For lost granules ----Jonathan Renfield
Fickle
What is happiness worth to one who only sees the subtle derision in every smile? Or in life- quick stolen moments, dulled by an artificial glow. What a brilliant play life sometimes dreams, in which the burden of being can be satiated with epiphanic measures- like plucking a single photon from the sunset. But here you are deceived- full … Continue reading Fickle
Abstract Diatribe
The earth is wet. Locked in thought haunted by memories, and inundated with fleeting smiles (half grins polished over gaped mouths) Full of shit. Lost within the herd each individual appropriately labeled costumed, and socially binding- writhing against the tepid bravado of our worth. Instinctively anxious to cast a sheen over this sooted image of … Continue reading Abstract Diatribe
Five-Hundred Circles
Indianapolis a once promising sight for freedom, industry, and corn. The fastest city in the western hemisphere- Where men from all walks could aspire to drive in five hundred circles, chasing the emphatic roar of beer-blooded all-Americans. Indianapolis A standing fury of cold steel and broken asphalt weighing on her spider webbed society Angry, cold, … Continue reading Five-Hundred Circles
