
If I Had a Rich Husband
You shouldn’t have to prostitute yourself and pretend to be straight/monogamous to change the world. Really, some could question the efficacy of charity for solving all the world’s problems, since it doesn’t really address the systemic issues and structural violence, etc.
![[ARCHIVED] I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1634585078529-FQZ3XTSCD4JV1JWM0SNH/IMG_7229.jpeg)
[ARCHIVED] I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire
I built a city in the desert.
Lithium and plastic and dry cellulose.
Autonomous flying cars.
Drone-delivered impossible everything,
Nourishing our body-positive bodies.
Streaming, bingeable Obama-produced documentaries
In every remote classroom.
There was even a monorail.

Dog Walker Barbie

Think About Flowers
THE WORLD IS AWFUL DON’T LOOK AT THE NEWS DON’T LOOK AT THE NEWS THINK ABOUT FLOWERS

It's My Baby (to the tune of "It's My Party")
It's my baby, and I'll kill it if I want to
Kill it if I want to, kill it if I want to
You would kill it too
if pregnancy was forced on you

The North Star

Fin-Domme Diary - A Poem
If some clean-room elevator connected floors are
Getting treated like a meat market anyhow,
Then why shouldn’t this old steam engine bellwether
Deserve to be on retainer and on premises?
![Holding My Son as We’re Violently Burned to Death [REPOST]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1580565403490-JCYKP1F40GF6OIQNO5V5/heart-on-fire.jpg)
Holding My Son as We’re Violently Burned to Death [REPOST]
But, son, I was not lying when I said I’d do anything to protect you.
Anything to keep you safe.
Sometimes that meant watching you put yourself in harm’s way.
Life is pointless without risk.
Sometimes it meant watching you get your heart broken
or hearing your bones break from the bleacher seats on the sidelines.
Harm and hurt, you see, are unfortunately, required of us.
The Universe demands it.
They are two of the many ways we learn and become stronger, better people.
Or so I always tried to be better
and I hope that I instilled that desire in you.

Our year
There were splinters in our hearts the size of floorboards.
We waited, shivering.

S&M Santa Claus (Repost from 2019)

The Destroyed Object Is Resurrected - A Prosepoem
I feel better at home, though when I go into the kitchen the staff have turned into simian creatures. Not quite human, not quite monkey. Something gleefully in between, well-dressed as ever.

Las Vegas Tour Company
on the corner
of Casino Center and Colorado with the studded thongs and the leashes around their slim necks and those high- waisted hot-pants hiked up to that sinched waist terrified by the possibility of beauty, while forgetting what
it might
be
...slowly
losing
life

I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire
I built a city in the desert.
Lithium and plastic and dry cellulose.
Autonomous flying cars.
Drone-delivered impossible everything,
Nourishing our body-positive bodies.
Streaming, bingeable Obama-produced documentaries
In every remote classroom.
There was even a monorail.

Ghost Women In Another Vegas - A Poem
This is better than the last testament to her will, which has been reduced to a manuscript hidden in a rare and rusting trunk. Frothing and varnished, it waits.

Dawn In The Parking Lot of Average Dreams - A Poem
Dark Gravel
Flattened Cardboard Burger Boxes
Used Bandaids
Slabs of Tire Rubber
Splintered Toothpicks
Exploded Ketchup Packets

Alternatives to and variations on the slogan “Defund the Police,” because, let’s face it, it could use some improving, or at least some explanation and elaboration
Could We At Least Get Rid Of The Neo-Nazi, Racist, Fascist, White Supremacist Police Officers? Please? Pretty Please? Is That Really So Much To Ask? People In Other Professions Who Exhibit Racist And Violent Behavior Don’t Get To Hold Onto Their Jobs. They Get Fired. Otherwise It’s A Public Relations Nightmare.

Fuck Your Resume
Fuck your resume
Fuck what's gone
before

Nice Things Are Getting Ruined All The Time
Changed my password to ILLFUXYRMTHR69
And walked over to no jukebox but the one behind my
Eyes touched my head full of dye, bleating
Nice things are getting ruined all the time.

Flowers from the Faucet at Midnight - A Poem
I’m nobody and you’re the anybody you’ve always
wanted to be. As long as we’re warm silhouettes in this
picture we have a piece of everything all to ourselves.

The sign of a good relationship is a sore, slightly bruised pubic bone. (Heh, heh… bone…)