Must buy paints

I can’t relate to you
Yes you
The person on my couch
& her on the other couch

yeah, why don’t you whores bond,
watch the movie I put in
don’t even think of my paranoid thoughts

as I splash paint alone
being alone is the best
just not talking, just observing,

one of my invisible friends told me today
as we smoked a cig in the texas rain,
he said

‘expect the worst
and if the best happens
so be it’

‘yeah man,’ I mumbled
gotta find my zen
I folded my hands and made an Indian posture in the sun
Breathing in and out, relaxing..

Expect the worst
Trust no one

Try not to care about anything
Try to pretend you paint pictures alone

While they walk in blabbering

Throw shit, smash shit
Excuse them of betrayal
See them in futures

Fold your hands master jelly
For you see things
They only dream

For you smoke things
They only want

All the sudden, I feel blood oozing down my face
Shooting out my chin, im not kidding,

Every moment is such warped beauty, like excess,
Like excuses to breathe

I asked my second mom
About any candy’s

She muttered and laughed and mumbled

“fired’ I said.. smiling at her

‘murdered’ she said, smiling

hopefully keeping my new secret

& isn’t being murdered better than suicide…

I have things I know that I cant discuss

I know people that I shouldn’t know

We all do things we shouldn’t do

I see art when it’s just the whispering air

Squeezing out the only color left

rolling 3's 5 am ice

I had bin up late
The sun was rising, birds chirpin,
Had exactly 3 hours till work
Poppin pills , drinkin, and such others

I noticed another monstrous cyst taking over
The other side of my cheek when I awoke
After vomiting and eating nothing
I ate an anti biotic a doctor prescribed
For such occasions from years ago

I started getting really itchy
Like ants were under my arms
I began scratching at my arms
Huge hives broke out
And I felt like I had a bad fever
My face and neck began to hive up
And turn red and blotchy

My ride showed up
We didn’t say a word to each other for the first 3 minutes of drive
Till he turned the music down and said
“how u doing?”
“Not to good man, think I’m having an allergic reaction from an anti biotic I ate”
he looked at my arms and face, as a scratched away
“holy shit man, you don’t look to good”
“I don’t feel to good” I responded

we got to work, and it got worse
felt like my entire body was on fire
as I filled my cart with books trying to ignore people
a girl with dreadlocks noticed my face
“Did u get some sun Norman?”

“No, im having an allergic reaction to a pill I took.”
Other employees looked at me
And gathered around in amazement
Making it all the more worse

“you have hives all over, and your face is red,
but under your eyes its all white, you don’t look to good, are you ok?”
they all stared and looked worried.
“I’ll be fine, maybe I should go sit down.”
My body felt like it was going into shock

Like all heated up and nervous, with fast irregular heart beats,
I kept scratching my arms till they bled.
But no one offered that I should go home
One girl was really concerned..
“are you sure your ok?”
“im dieing” I said joking, but I may have really looked like death.

After about an hour or two my skin went back to normal
But the spots up and down my arms are still there
Its funny the look in people’s eyes
When they are genuinely concerned about a man who looked like death

Im sure whispers were spoken
Rumors spread,- maybe he’s on drugs?
When my back was turned

I still have the cyst
It’ grown bigger
I drain it everyday
It will soon be just another scar
Like the many on my face
I’m sick
Not just in looks brother dice roller

Silent fan blows words Write out of boredom
Write till the sun comes up
Write if you have nothing to say
Write till you collapse from exhaustion
Write whatever comes to mind
Write to kill time
Write while you drink
Write about the birds living in your attic
Write about crickets in your backyard
Write to yourself because TV sucks
Write because you’re scared to lie down
Write to your pet cat
Write about nuns
Write about frogs
Write inside delirium
Write about blood and needles
Write about black lungs
Write about old men with catheters stuck up their dicks in hospital beds
Write about two headed babies
Write about what a terrible writer I am
Write about the brown mini mart owner
Write about the voice when you open his door
Write about how it says.. “Front door, someone has entered”
Write about geese and planes above
Write about being broke
Write about bills and how you don’t trust banks
Write about pretty girls you never talk to
Write about retards drinking coffee
Write about work dress codes
Write about how they said I cant ware jeans with holes in them
Write about another train passing by
Write about how you have two beers open, one in each hand
Write about how poetry sucks
Write about how your cat twitches as he dreams on your bed
Write about the next war bush will start
Write about my cock
Write about your cunt
Write me a letter and tell me about the ocean waves
Write my will
Write my mother a birthday card
Write with all your heart
Write with no heart
Write about souls
Write about insomnia
Write about heaven, hell, and purgatory
Write and tell me you’re an atheist
Write about serial killers
Write about ducks in ponds eating bread
Write about the sun
Write till you believe
Write till you just want to shut up
Write because you’re a stupid jerk with nothing else to do
Write because sometimes you think your right
When they all say you are so wrong

Graffiti box car late night

Trains howl
like soft musical snores
Just outside these windows
A peaceful sound
Like morning rain
Some things
never stop moving
never stop creating music
Like conductors
Passing through
Another texas town
With blurry eyes
Crossing state lines
Another person
In another state
Will soon hear
The same train
The same conductor
Playing his only tune
That person alone
Can’t sleep either

Spackle smacker

Solten dropped his fork in the cat litter. He sat staring at it while the pancakes began to burn on his stovetop gas oven. No fire alarms went off because he had pulled them all off the walls one crazy night after hot boxing his living room with a variety of smokes. He wanted the phone to ring. For some dam reason solten wanted someone one to call him. The phone wouldn’t ring. He had cut the cord to it, plus it was a fisher price phone he had found along the edges of the town dump. You’re just a stupid fragment, solten thought to himself. He stopped staring at the fork in the cat littered pissy smelly shit and grabbed the burning pancakes in the burning smoking pan, burning his hand, he tossed it in his backyard, and yelled “Eat that coppers!”
Solten always thought the cops were hiding out in his backyard. He quickly locked the door again and one of his cats gave him a meow. Solten sat down on the floor and stared at his cats, he cracked a window to let some of the smoke out and picked up his fisher price child’s phone and began to dial a number one of the cats had told him to dial.
He held the plastic phone to his ear.
“Hey how are you?, its fritter boys.” He said into the phone.
“Man it’s been a while since I talked to you fritter, thanks kitters for the number.” Solten said, smiling at his odd cats.
“Don’t say that fritter, look asshole, we haven’t spoke in a while, why do you have to mention her name?”
there was a long pause as solten stared into spaced bubbles only he sees. His cats began to talk to each other telepathetically.
Pickles saying to leozane..
“You weren’t kiddin man, he really is nuts.”
“Just wait dude, it gets worse,” leozane answered.
Solten slugged the last of jim beam, most of it slobbering on his stained yellow shirt. his smelly zitty neck.
“I know that Fritter! Oh bullshit! It wasn’t my fault! how can you say that!”
The cats stared at each grinning.
Solten had a cigarette lit in each hand, nervously smoking puffs off each. “She attacked me with her fists! Started punching me in the face over a glass bong Fritter!”
There was another long pause, as Solten listened into the phone to fritters answer.
“Bullshit! Fuk you too then! You were a pussy when we were in nam, and you are nothing but a fuking jerk now!”
Solten slammed the plastic phone down as blind Willie Johnson blared from his half broken tape deck.. the blind black man sung about, everybody better treat a stranger right..
The cats ran for it, under the bed.
“Rodents!” Solten screamed.
Solten opened his front door because someone was knocking, no one was there.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked the frigid Texas air.
He pushed his crack pipe as tears poured down his face, he shot gunned 4 beers in a row and swallowed 4 more xanax, ate half a zyprexas and waited for sleep.
The cats started meowing for food.
“Quit being drama queens!” solten yelled at his cats..
“I aint got no food for me either, I fed the cops already! How dare you say that pickles!”
The cats ran under the bed again.
“I Told you dude.” Leozane told pickles.
“Holy shit, what the fuks wrong with him anyhow?” pickles asked.
“I have no idea man, but get use to it.” leozane answered.
Solten began to paint on his walls, splattering brown and white and yellows and pinks and purples and blacks, and blues all over the walls. it made him happy for a brief moment.
Until someone really did knock on his door. It was some neighbor he had never met. He answered his door.
“Are you the convoy to the ship?” Solten asked the neighbor.
The neighbor asked solten to turn down his music.
“When did you meet her you fuker!?”
“Meet who? I just want you to turn the music down so me and my wife can get some rest?”
Solten stared at the dudes face. A scary stare.
“Do you have cable?” solten asked the neighbor.
“Yeah? Why?”
“because you’re on TV being raped by Iraqi soldiers!”
Solten slammed the door on the neighbors face, turning the music up louder. He already knew that the coppers were always watching him, in his backyard, surrounding his house, which cares how loud the music is.
The smashed plastic phone rang over and over.
Solten picked up the half broken receiver, and it was her voice, crying, drunk…
“I am so sorry! I am so sorry!” she cried.
“Forget about it, go to bed, sleep it off” solten said to her.
“I cant, ive been drinking all day and I tried to slice my wrists again.”
“Oh jesus, why do you have to do this, there is enough drama queens in the world, there is no need for all this drama”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I just want to lay in your bed” she weeped.
“Can you hear them in the backyard?” Solten asked her,
“Hear whom?” she begged.
“Them, they are everywhere!” he told her
“Have you been smoking crack again?” she cried.
“Are you bleeding?” he asked her?
The tape stopped. One of the cats chased a roach across the wooden floor.
“I wrapped them in paper towels” she cried.
“I met a neighbor tonight.” He said.
“Can you hear the trains?” she wept.
“I can hear the trains darlin, I can hear the trains.” Solten said, loading his gun as he had for so many nights alone.
“I’m coming over, I want to be in you’re bed, I’m so sorry.” She cried.
“OK, but there’s a fork in the cat litter and I got yellow wax in my ears, I burnt the pancakes.”
“What?” she asked.
The cats looked at each other stunned.
“Dudes of fukin weirdo man, he better feed us soon, or im running out the front door next time he opens it.”
“Don’t leave without me” the other cat said.
Solten began to pour salt on her wounds before she arrived, pour sugar on his broken phone, gave the bill collector some monopoly money and paged the man with the pop rocks that sizzled in the late night blues. A car pulled up. poured himself some vegetable oil and vodka, slobbering down, peeking out backyard windows. He had hoped fritters feelings weren’t hurt.

Ghost mute

At times
I wonder how you are
& if
im now just a ghost
to you
do you sleep alone?

a best friend
is getting married
in the Michigan snow
soon
congratulations amigo
some people need people

at times
I forget what
Love
Is
Was
Or if I
ever knew

all I remember is pain
cause ghosts
never mingle
ghosts are rarely seen

when in others arms

blabber mutt no sense

Beggars beg like sorry sounding half dead road kill squealing
Crawling along yellow road way lines in torturous hot sun
More tires hit, bump, bump, rabid animal suffers
Swarming vultures circle above waiting
It only wanted to cross the road & who knows why
Opiates should be legal, all sorts of them..
Catching colds I never get-yet have- green goobery throat
Pneumonia? Hack cough dry mouth nose blower
One must learn to make it through the day sober
Shooting the vultures from air to grill tried everything
Beggars beg till they seduce like slippery con men
Holy mother of feline cat stalker signals me
To a cockroach the size of my hand running across the kitchen floor
Must kill must kill must kill! No bugs in me house! No no no!
Narcotic breeze through work jellied thank u mam
Turns to xanax beer guzzled snapper corrupt youngness bad me
The mixtures mix into liver eroding health less- ate one tomato today
Sudden impact pulls downward like an angle flashing nakedness
In side haunted ancient hotels for just a second in the hallway
Subjected to constant change as Chris whitley whispers acoustic dirt floor
Solo album on broken stereo almost brings tears for road kill heat cold
Begged for all the things I never needed
Temporary fixes hide for days, weeks, years. peace alone must be found
Tricked into this endless circling sun with rapid pulsed to many apologies
Throbbing aches of complete flip flop opposite views pound sharp rusted nails
In and out in and out anti social freak the neighbors must think
Car door destiny knocked up wont leave me be
Not knowing what one wants must be the solution to the want
Splat, a Mercedes finally squashes the final breath from night animal
Wait 15 minutes, wait 20 minutes, wait all day stripping fur coats
From mangled faces that never say hello at cash registers made of prison bars
Odd half naps for 5 minutes in break room couch
Jumping up yelling.. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”
New Girl hired walks away looking scared, hiding behind books,
A master’s degree in library science can earn you 6 dollars an hour-
It’s always the same questions from customers
Do you have…
To kill a mockingbird
A separate peace
The crucible
Of mice and men
Dances with wolves
Fahrenheit 451?
The redundancy of reading lists
That never change
One time I saw this guy singing at a big concert in Grand Rapids Michigan
A band that would become well known eventually
Zillions of people, well, hundreds- but I swear he stared at me the hole time
He sang his heart out, glared right at me-a creepy stare-
Maybe the acid was just really good, maybe he wasn’t staring at me
But either way it sort of freaked me out
I thought there was some sort of creature in his stomach
My mom owns a brand new jaguar
& gave me fresh tomatoes from her garden the other day
my bowels need to explode in water but I can’t seem to bring myself
to go sit down on the can because im convinced someone will knock
right when I am in the middle of that important release
people want me to go out, to come over, go places. even next door..
I don’t want to be rude, but I just like to be alone…
I’d have nothing to say about anything they talked about
And even if I did I’d just sit there wishing I were alone
I’m beyond all the false smiles, all the stupid young drunken jabber,
So what if some hot chicks are next door, I got nothing to say…
Suppose im being a negatron, a word my x made up
Look man, that vulture circling just pulled an intestine out
Swallowed it hole
From the now dead creature crossing the road
It’s flying back to its nest to regurgitate a meal for its offspring
While the beggars apply for pan handling permits
I’m gonna go pound my drums past two am & no one can stop me
Not even the soothing sounds of trains
Cracking beers in not so distant please don’t come overs
the cat has fleas & is climbing the walls
ants forming long lines to unwashed dishes in sinks
that drain into clogged solar systematic constant change
I shall pound the symbols, pound the drums,
Like some Neanderthal reject trying to find that perfect heavy beat

The host

Barfy mcpeterson ate 8 xanax
Mama fly fished pay roll long line
Gas station hot sun beer smoke purchase
A sign read don’t push limits to far
Somewhere cashed sunglass bumming rides

Listen to your body
Whata whata whata happened
Masa speedy weedy beery weary
Excessive
the astrology says, destructive,
electric
no no no, fuk the stars.

payroll dumb dumb spend spend

Bashing my head into my front door
In front of company
After a lil to muchy wuchy
Wishing it was an act

Worried looks..
Some leave
Others sit silent

Cleaned for 7 hours
That’s something

Sit on chair
Company still
Asking me questions
“No talking” I say
sometimes I get like that

they pass the pot
I say nothing
“Don’t u want any?” one of them asks
“I said no talking yet”
staring at a TV but see nothing
like my eyes are in some other dimension
some twisted world I want to destroy

finally checked mail after 5 days
354 dollar electric bill
I don’t get it
500 dollars in rent
I don’t get it
80 dollar gas bill
I don’t get it
Student loans
Hospital bills..
Plus I need more beer, smokes, food, and mas treats
Cat food
Paycheck was 500 for 2 weeks
do the math

A roommate is what I n
eed
But I cant live with people
I try and live like a rich man
Try and block out im a poor man
Till it all comes around
& around with not an excuse left
until a fall from a building
that reaches past galaxies
we humans are aware of

but wait

oh but today was a beautiful day
don’t get me wrong
old twilight zone marathon on sci fi
was a nice wake and bake
with morning beer and ramen

oh things are good
I can play guitar
I can sit in a hammock in my backyard
I can drink more beer
I can jump for joy

Some company is still here
Voices in living room
One tries to enter
“:hey man…”
“Quiet time, no talking” I say

& who gave me the key
to live what I can’t afford

the world is beautiful
yes indeed
im so happy
when I just don’t think

I let out a loud scream from my dark room
I hear another person leave
& pop another xanax
wondering who is left out there

forget about it
im almost ready to go
mumble something

& smashing my head
into my front door was just plain dumb
but it’s my house for now
and now, just now,
a wave of happiness eats
the depression quickly
& life is just dandy
for a second or two

Microorganism Slime

Marvin was putting books away today at his work place. His ribs hurt from a whiskey filled fight he had gotten into a couple nights before. His arm felt broken too. His neck was sore. He was hungover.
An older man was in Marvin’s fiction section creeping around.
The older man bent down to look at a book and let out a gigantic fart.
“OH Jesus, that’s fukin bullshit.” Marvin mumbled.
The older man looked at Marvin.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“Well it’s a little to late for that, you probably already shit your pants.” Marvin responded, grinding his teeth.
“Do you work here young man?” the farty old man asked, looking insulted. “No I don’t, I just don’t like people who fart in public and act like they didn’t do anything, what makes you think anyone else wants to smell your shit?”
“Fucking screw you! and mind your own dam business!” the farter screamed.
“Stink-ass.” Marvin mumbled

It was time for Marvin’s lunch. He walked out the front doors into the hot Texas sun and immediately began to sweat even more.
He drove over to the hamburger place drive through and ordered some dead cow flesh on a bread bun.
As he waited in his vehicle for the cars to inch forward, he stared into his review mirror and noticed the man behind him was jamming his dirty finger up his nose and eating the snotty boogers.
Marvin got out of his car and walked up to the mans window.
“Can I help you?” The booger eating man in the car questioned, with a nervous look on his face.
Marvin was clenching his fists, grinding his teeth, his broken rib hurting badly.
“Are you really that fuking hungry! That you have to eat your own boogers instead of just waiting a few more minutes for your fuking food!?”
The booger eating man looked upset now.
“Hey screw you buddy! Get back in your car before I get out of mine and beat your funny looking ass!”
“Sick Freak!” Marvin yelled, getting back in his car and poppin it up over the curb and driving off in frustration.

Marvin sat for a while in the bookstore parking lot listening to the news and smoking pot. A Fat lady walked by his car eating a banana. Marvin stared at her hips. The fat lady threw her banana peel on the ground and kept walking. Marvin’s teeth began to grind. He got out of his car and yelled…. “HEY YOU!” The lady turned around with a worried look on her face.
“What?” she barked.
“You through your banana peel on the ground, that’s littering, now pick it up.”
“Eat my rotten clit and mind your own business!” the lady said, flipping her hair back and turning around to walk away.
Marvin clenched his fists tighter. He picked up the banana peel and threw it as hard as he could at the back of her head. The stupid lady fell to the hot cement, grabbing the back of her head and screaming for help.
“Help! Help! I’m being attacked! Help! Help!”
`What the fuk is wrong with her?` Marvin thought to himself, getting back in his car and speeding out of the parking lot before he could get in any trouble.

Marvin drove down Texas avenue and a big stupid looking 4 by 4 pick up truck came rolling up next to him at a stop light. There was a bunch of college idiots with all the same marine style haircuts in the front and back of truck. They were all yelling some rubbish about football and school spirit or some crap. They all had maroon shirts on. Marvin stared at them in utter disgust. One of them looked at Marvin and yelled…
“WHOOP, WHOOP!YEEHAW!”
Marvin gave him the fuk you middle finger. Then one of the fools yanked his shorts down and mooned Marvin as the others all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Marvin took another drag off his cigarette and flicked it at the mans bare ass. The hot ember stuck to the sweaty skin of the man and began to burn a nice welt onto his ass. The man began to scream in pain as his dumb jock looking brothers tried to put the cigarette out. The light turned green. Marvin sped off, only now he was being chased by these fuking mongoloids. The one who got his ass burnt was yelling like a mad man. “Pull over you lil punk, I’m gonna kick your mother fukin ass!” Marvin sped off and cut through some cars, running a red light, almost causing an accident. He lost them. `What the fuk is wrong with these people?` Marvin yelled, grinding his teeth, rubbing his sore broken rib, grimacing at the pain.

Marvin pulled back up to work. The fat litterbug lady with the banana was gone now. The banana peel still lay on the hot pavement. Marvin went and picked it up and threw it away in a garbage can inside his workplace. Marvin sat down on the break room couch for a minute and stared at the ground. A Cockroach ran by, scurrying under the couch. A girl Marvin works with came into the break room. Marvin just sat staring at the ground.
“Everything ok Marvin?” she asked.
Marvin looked up at her.
“Sure, I guess so.”
He walked back over to his section to continue the robotic like job of putting books onto shelves. `Only 5 more hours of this, I can make it,` Marvin mumbled to himself.
A greasy looking man walked by Marvin and let out a tremendously loud sneeze. The man didn’t cover his mouth and a chunk of snot and sprinkles of spit went flying into the air, about 3 feet away from Marvin. The man gave Marvin a dirty look and walked off. Marvin began to grind his teeth, clench his fists. He was about to go up to the man and ask him why in all fuk he didn’t cover his mouth when he sneezed! Or at least have the common courtesy to say excuse me afterwards.
Marvin held his anger back and went into the men’s bathroom to take a piss. He walked up to the toilet and there was blood sprayed diarrhea splattered all over the seat along with crumpled up toilet paper all over the floor next to a dirty lesbian post card book some sicko had probably been masturbating to. Marvin turned around to see the sign he had made a few weeks ago. It read, “Please remember to flush.”
There was a big nasty spit wad of chew on it. The bathroom smelled like death. The piss seeping into the un mopped tiles. All the unflushed toilets. Shit floating in clogged pipes. Marvin began to gag. He splashed cold water on his face and stared in the mirror, pulling a little pink pill from his pocket. It was his fifth one of the day. Marvin pushed on his rib and heard a strange crackling noise.
“ouch” he mumbled, going back out to face all the microorganisms.
A man walked by Marvin and let out a huge belch.
Marvin stared at his watch, his eyelids like heavy weights in the hot smelly store. Sweat dripped from his brow, he stared at another perfect tan Barbie doll college girl and wondered what sounds she might create when alone. He let out a silent fart hoping she might get a whiff of him.

Sissy boy

maxine and Jerald sat around their trailer smoking crack and drinking warm cheap 40 ouncers of beer. Jerald was maxines boyfriend. maxine had a child named Muxley who was 12 years old. The TV news channel was on with scattered snow. A man who looked like he had redwings and horns in a business suit was standing before a senate committee on the fuzzy TV pleading his case for Armageddon. It was the only channel they got. The music that played over the TV was some hillbilly shit. very loud.

Muxley had bin sitting in his small room most of the night doing his homework and reading huck fin with his only friend, his cat, ajax.. He really didn’t want to come out into the TV room. Cause he hated Jerald, and hated his mother because she was a nasty diseased slut who was only nice to him when she was filled with all the guilt. Maxine knew what had been going on for years. But blocked it out of her bleach blonde white trash head as much as she could with alcohol and crack, which most nights, Jerald supplied from his small income as a carpenter. Maxine worked as a waitress at the local bar and grill.

It was hard for Muxley to concentrate on his studies with that loud hillbilly music on. He was hungry. Hadn’t eaten since lunchtime at school, and even then, he only ate a brownie. Cause the bullies at school, Rob and gang, had taken his lunch again, and knocked him down, spitting on him, as girls in the playground snickered and joined in the persecution of Muxley’s daily torment.

Muxley decided to see if there was any thing in the fridge, which meant disrupting the crazy drunken crack heads that were busily pushing the chore boy through the half broken glass pipe, fiending. Muxley pushed his purring cat ajax off his chest, petting him and telling him how much he loved him. Muxley walked by Jerald and maxine as they were yelling at each other about how to get more money for crack, cause, it was all gone, and they didn’t want to go through them come downs, not like before, not like before. come downs were pure hell and beyond.

Muxley opened the fridge and saw half a stick of moldy butter and a pan with about half a bowl of top ramen in it. chicken flavor. That was all. Muxley was so hungry he grabbed a dirty fork from the filthy dishes in the sink. He was just about to take a bite when Jerald slapped him in the back of the head hard, sending him falling to the cockroach-infested stained kitchen floor.

“dam lil punk, trying to eat the last of my dinna! I ought a take my belt off and give u a right wuppin!” Jerald screamed at muxley, standing above him. Maxine nervously bit her fingernails, lighting up a cigarette butt from the ashtray.

“I was hungry, man, I’m sorry, please don’t hit me again.” Muxley whimpered.
“well, the fukin lil sissy boy was hungry!”
smack! Jerald hit him again, sending him flying against the trailer wall.

“u aint gonna eat my dinna boy, now go on and git the fuk outa my face, before I take my belt off and give u another good wuppin, like u deserve!”

Muxley stood up, tears and blood pouring down his face, and ran for his room; as Jerald kicked him square in his ass.

Maxine just sat there on the garbage picked couch, not saying a word, as another terrible country song blasted from the radio station.

Muxley sat on the end of his bed, rocking back and forth in a schizophrenic manner, crying, his cat ajax tried to comfort him, but muxley was becoming more and more numb, some might say down right insane. An emotionless zombie. It was as if he was starting to build this bubble around him to deal with the pain. A bubble no one could enter, not even ajax. He had been building this bubble for years. He got off his bed, pulled out one of his scratched albums he found in his mothers closet years ago. He quietly put on Fleetwood macs song….‘landslide’. He listened to it three times, and each time, even though he was crying, it made him feel a little bit better. He always liked music that spoke to his soul.

Muxley heard his mother being slapped around and beaten by Jerald as he curled up with ajax and tried to sleep the hunger away. Later that night, he was awakened by a drunken Jerald for the usual routine.

Muxley couldn’t sleep after that. He was starving. His asshole hurt. Muxley walked back into the kitchen, heading towards the fridge. Jerald was passed out on the couch. Maxine was passed out on her waterbed with a black eye.

Muxley opened the fridge, grabbed the fork he had before, and gobbled down the rest of Jerald’s dinner in a hurry, and ran back to his room and fell into a deep sleep with Ajax wrapped around his arms, purring.

When Muxley awoke he loaded one of Jerald’s guns and pointed it at his evil demented head and blew his brains all over the decaying flowered trailer park wallpaper.
He tied his mother up with tears in his eyes, duck taping her mouth shut. He gave her a kiss goodbye saying…. “You should have done something, MOM! You really should have done something!” then he spit in her face.

Muxley got on the bus for school. He put his Walkman on to drown out all the kids yapping around him. He listened to a ministry song over and over called ‘burning inside.’

Muxley stepped off the bus. The sun gleamed down on what most thought would be just another normal day. He walked forward into the crowd. Something carrying his feet, something controlling his actions.
Muxley brought a few different guns with plenty of ammunition and began firing randomly at all his fellow students as they dropped like flies. He felt nothing. His face neither grim nor happy. He just kept shooting till the blood ran down the halls like a red sea of death. He couldn’t even here the moans, screams, the begging for life. His empty eyes older and emptier then a soldier back from war. Pop! pow! Pop! pow! went his guns until he decided it was all over. The media loved it. Ate it up like hungry rats.

A walk in the rain

Walked down the road in the rain to the local mini mart in just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with no shoes on. Had somewhat of an early morning beer buzz but was upset I had no money or food or car. The foreign guy who owns the mini mart had ripped me off the day before on the last of my money. He had charged me for 6 packs of ramen noodles when I had actually only bought 3. Plus he charges 70 cents a pack for ramen noodles that are suppose to be only 25 cents.
Cars passed by me with staring people and lightning struck down near my bare feet.
I had to eat and I just wanted what was mine anyway. I was shivering a little bit from how soaked I was when I entered his mini mart. Every time you enter his store, the door sets off this voice that says. “Front door has opened.” Then he just looks at you all-paranoid all the time and never says hello, even if you are a regular customer.
I grabbed a 40 ouncer and 3 packs of ramen and walked up to his counter and set them down, rain dripping down my face. He started to ring them up.
“Wont be any need for you to ring this up today chief.” I said.
He looked at me puzzled.
“You pay!” he said, firm faced.
“No, you don’t understand, I was in yesterday and you overcharged me for my ramen and my beer, you never give receipts, so you will have to just take my word on this one.”
I grabbed the stuff off the counter and headed for his talking door.
“Stop! Now!” he screamed in a thick heavy accent.
I heard a shotgun click into position and I slowly turned around to see him pointing one right at my head.
“You pay!” he yelled.
“Fuk you, shoot me.” I said, dripping with rain, a psychotic twinkle in my tired eyes.
“You no steal! You pay!”
I walked up to his gun and grabbed the end of it and stuck it to my temple.
“Shoot you motherfuker! shoot me, do it! I’m waiting!” I yelled, staring him in the eyes.
“Fuking do it! kill me!” I yelled again.
He yanked the shotgun back from my temple.
“Get out! Out now! Crazy man! Out of my store, never come back!” he screamed.
I smiled at him and told him he disappointed me.
I bumped into some big ugly construction worker-looking dude as I walked out the talking door.
“Watch where your fuking walking asshole.” I said.
“What the fuk you say to me?” the big mean looking man said, grabbing one of my skinny arms.
I looked at him and just started doing this really odd loud laugh I had never done before. He took one look into my eyes and let go of my arm saying…
“Jezus age Christ, what in all hell?”
I cracked my forty ouncer on the walk home and swigged big chugs of it. Lightning smashed down knocking tree limbs onto my head and my bare feet could feel the earth underneath shake as if it were angry at the sky and me.

It was to be another breakfast lunch dinner of cigarette butts and noodles alone with the cat.

published credits:

Unlikely Stories | Exquisite corpse | Driver's Side Airbag | Budget Press
the Adirondack Review | Anti Hero Art | Progress | Bardo Burner | Fiction and Poetry society | the ho!d | Saga | Tales from the Vault | Carved in Sand | Physikgarden | 3 A.M.Publishing | MindKites | The Blue Review
Beehive | The Sidewalks End | San Francisco Salvo | Mind Haven
Creative Voice | 7th Circle