rainy season damage

It’s been a rough rainy season
and rain always
put father in
the drinking mood

He drank more in this
rainy season than
ever before in his life

Mother’s missing teeth
and broken shoulder
were proof of that

the old story about falling
down the stairs held up
with the doctors

Well, just like he messed
his wife up
the rainy season messed up
the roof of the house

He downed what was left of a bottle
of vodka and got the
ladder and a few tools
and went out

His son held the ladder for him

He always cursed
plenty when he worked on
something. He was cursing his
wife as he hammered at the
roof and said something
about his son not
being his

and the second best thing
about his fall
was that the son didn’t even have
to shake the ladder, as planned

Father just fell on his own
thanks to the vodka he
drank before climbing up there

The first best thing about
father’s fall was
that he landed on some
screwdriver in his pocket
and got stabbed in the kidney

The pain must’ve been
something to follow him
all the way to the afterlife
as he bled to death
and cried silently

The kid watched him,
watched his watering eyes,
and kicked dust in his face
and went back inside the house

They waited until it was too
late and then
called the emergency number

one unlucky boxer

He was a boxer

Picked up the craft at six
and never put it

Unfortunately though
being a good boxer doesn’t
earn you a good job
in today’s society. Best he
could do was bouncer
at a local bar
His IQ wasn’t much help either

He beat up quite a number of
and earned a reputation

became a local celebrity

The women desired him
and got him
and life was good until the one
invincible opponent stepped
into the ring

Well, there are many invincible
opponents in a man’s life
but his was prostate cancer

All the women who wanted to
take pictures with him
and have his autograph on their
chests and wanted to take
him home meant nothing now

One of them was a rich
older lady who
gifted him a car after he served
her a few times in the bedroom

He used it to
drive at full speed into
a pole

And as it happens after someone
dies, the people had only
good words to say
about him

They thought he didn’t leave
much behind
but one of the girls he’d been
with knew better

She rubbed her swollen
belly as she
thought of him. It’ll be fine
as long as her husband wouldn’t
suspect anything

in a very open marriage

She parked in his driveway
and got out of the car
and went to the door
and knocked

A woman opened up
“Oh, hi. You must be my
husband’s date.”


“Oh, it’s okay. We’re in a very
open marriage, really.
It’s fine. Come in.”

She tried to remember
a time when she felt more
embarrassed and out
of place. Failed. Gave up.
Came in.

The woman closed the door
behind her
Locked it
Took out the gun

It was worth it

The husband was dead in the
bathtub. Shot in the head
And his wife used his phone to
text this other woman
and ask her to come

The wife got a very, very light
and no one disagreed with
her actions

She was the hero all local housewives
wanted to be like,
an inspiration, a celebrity,
someone they looked up to

guilt is one heavy anvil

they were having another one
of those heated
arguments on the porch
when the kid ventured
into the
street and got run over by a car

He didn’t survive

And there was no
getting out from under this guilt

“He tried to run away from
our screams.”

“Yes. He did.”

“And we can only…go after
him now.”

“Yes. We’re going after him.”

She circled her arms around
his neck and pulled him
in for a kiss
while holding the revolver
against his nape, thumbs on the trigger

It was the sweetest kiss
of their entire

The bang ended the problems
for both of them

the world is full of fetishists

the sex was good
She loved to swallow. Even
from the condom. Had
a real fetish with it

They passed out eventually
in each other’s
and somewhere towards
the morning he
woke up with a blade in the

It twisted hard

He gasped for air
and watched her eyes, demanding
an explanation

Her response was a shrug. “Just
wanted to see what it
feels like. I think I
love it.”

He didn’t survive
and she faced no real consequences

The world is full of fetishists

some girls like to
swallow cum and carve their
partners up for fun

and some men
like to hook up with
psych ward patients

There never was a time in history
when madness was not
and idolized
and alluring as sin

honestly, I had to look online for the meaning of the term

She pushed gently against me
and fell on the
Stretched a leg towards me
began unbuttoning at her

I helped her take them
Not too gentle, not too rough

Grinning, she turned around
in bed and said, “I just
remembered, you never told me
what your muse looks like.”


“And please don’t tell me
it looks like me. We both know
that’s bullshit sweet talk poets use
to get girls. Don’t
lie to me, boy. What does your
muse look like? You
can tell me.”

I reached for her foot
moved it out of the way
not too gently, not too rough
Reached for the panties

She pushed my hand away
not too gently, not too rough
“Tell me. Is it, by any chance, a little
girl locked inside a basement like
it was for my ex-boyfriend? Do you
whip her when she’s naughty
and doesn’t give you inspiration? Do
you deny her food and the


“Tell me, poet! Do you? Do you
lie on your back when you masturbate
and imagine the muse
squat above your face
and shower you with her piss
as blessing?”

I took a step back. “What?”

“Oh fuck,” she said. “Just tell
me already what your muse
looks like and how d’you get
intimate with her. Tell me!”

“I, I don’t know. I don’t work
like that.”

She stopped touching herself
Watched me expecting
to add more

I gave a shrug.

Honestly, the last time I thought of
a muse it was
some broke, homeless young guy,
scrawny as a putrid
plank and roaming the streets

He had nothing in this
but hunger
A hunger that possessed him
and made him write like a madman

That guy was my muse

But I figured
she wouldn’t care to hear about that

Anyway, we didn’t go out for long
after that evening

She said we’re not compatible
because I’m too vanilla

broken toy

it was dark and
and every breath entered
with salty sweat
inside the nose

the mouth was
gagged and the whole head
covered by a
black trash bag
with two very small holes,
unaligned with her

Her skin was itchy all
but there was no scratching
with hands and feet
bound to the chair

She didn’t realize that she
was in hyperventilation
and it was making things

After the four hours
it took him to come back to
the basement
he found the greatest
disappointment of his life

He found her dead

There’s no feeling like
paying good money
for a toy
only to bring it home
and find that it’s broken
before you get to
play with it

He broke down and cried
for a whole hour
as he sat on her dead lap
and caressed her hair
and kissed her gagged
mouth and sucked the
snot from her nose

She was beautiful

Weeks later he was unable to
forget her
He carried her eyeball inside
his mouth wherever he

scratch on the inside

she ran to the desk
opened the drawer
shuffled around
got the scotch tape
and a condom

Ran towards him and
fell to her knees

She hurried to put
the condom on,
laughing like a child
knowingly doing something
bad, yet exciting

Then she wrapped the whole thing
in scotch tape
giving it plenty of
sharp ridges and pointy

When it was done she spat on
it a few times
and gave it a few

It was the best way to get
fucked while
dealing with a yeast infection

The scratching sensation
on the inside
is simply divine, she

dark corners of the dating scene

well, she was cute in
the pictures
and in person
but she kinda broke the
spell when
she sat down at the table
and opened her

She just had to follow
every damn sentence
with a
cringe-worthy “meow” or “nya”
and she would
even rub her hand against
her face cat-like

“What’s up with that shit?” he
would’ve liked
to ask, but
kept to himself and stayed
a gentleman all throughout
the date

She only spoke about
animated shows
she watched and conventions she’d
participate to, always dressed
as some fantasy character

She showed him some
pictures on her phone and he
decided to make this
first date
the last
but then she said,
“Also, when I get fucked I
make those sounds, hehe.”

“What?” he said. “What sounds?”

“Oh, you know what I’m
talking about.” And then she proceeded
to reproduce the sounds
Right there
in the goddamn restaurant

Sounded like some child getting
beat up real good
and repeatedly stabbed all over and
in tremendous pain

The other customers and
the staff
looked over and he could see
hands reaching for
phones, ready to record the

Well, to their credit, it
was some shit worth
You don’t see and hear that
every day

Anyways, at the end of
the day he decided that it
just wasn’t the worst date
he’d been on

nor the worst sex
he had

Anything was better than
that time he
got stabbed by a
self-diagnosed psycho girl

only empty wine bottles

He just wasn’t a bright kid,
mother told the

“Got his finger stuck in
the bottle
and he panicked and smashed
the bottle against his head.”


Well, it was true that
there were no
other toys for him
around the house. There were
only empty wine

ever since
daddy left

better than any show on TV

It was a strange day

He still remembered it years
after it happened

Usually when he got

It didn’t take much for him
to get drunk
Sometimes two beers
were more than enough

He was perhaps
five or six
and big sister was in her early
She was a rebel

Wore thick makeup
and revealing clothes
and fake piercings
and argued with mom and dad
about tattoos
and boyfriends

But on that day mom and dad
weren’t home
and there wasn’t much to do
in those times. There was
nothing interesting on TV
and the internet wasn’t a thing

But big sister had an idea

That morning they found the cat
dead in the basement. It was
old enough to die. Big sister
went there and retrieved it
and brought it upstairs
and placed it on the window sill
and they watched as birds
came to eat the maggots from
its rotting flesh

Big sister seemed to really
enjoy the show
and he didn’t want to upset her
so he pretended he
enjoyed too

These days
the drunker he’d get, the more
vivid the memory
would play in his head

He had three beers

sometimes you don’t have to lead the insane to happiness, but to follow

he would start whistling
Very random
and very loud

even at night in bed

and stopping him was
very much a

The caterpillar-like
stitches on
his wife’s arm were a testimony
to that

He’s never been the same
since his head injury
Poor fellow just had the terrible,
terrible luck to
walk underneath an overpass while
some teenagers were throwing
big rocks for fun

Now he kept calling the emergency
number and crying that
his wife had
gone missing when she’d be just
in the other room or at work

The neighbors filed
noise complaints
because of
his nightly whistling
and apparently he no longer knew
how to use the
toilet paper. He always smelled
and it was worse when
he climbed in bed
besides his wife

It was hell
and hell broke people
and tonight again he started whistling
and woke her up
and as a response
she started whistling as well

They whistled together
in the dark
under the covers
and held hands and smiled
after so long

it’s okay, his father’s a writer

so the assignment was to write about
what the perfect
vacation would look like

and he wrote about
running away from home and
stealing a car
and running people over

robbing a gas station
assaulting and beating
a lady in the restrooms

shooting the cops
smashing their heads in

and at the end driving the car
into a wall and
dying with a shitload of money
and a lady’s head in
the trunk

“Your kid seems very…
troubled,” said the

“Oh my God!” said the mother. “No,
it’s his father…”

“Hm? His father treats him…
inappropriately you mean?”

“Well, you see…no actually.
His father doesn’t spend
much time with him. He is
a writer…”

“Oh. I see.”