history repeats

While still a virgin,

I fucked my mother

in sinewy dreams

and upon awakening

cloaked myself in

obligatory shame.

This was before I

knew anything of

Oedipus.

When I was younger,

and still limber,

I’d grab my thighs

and bend my back

to shove my own dick

down my throat.

This was before I

knew anything of

Narcissus.

When in high school,

I saw my sister’s

naked breasts as she

came out of the shower,

and invented stories

to tell my friends

about her fucking

basketball players

This was before I

knew anything of

Faulkner.

These tendencies

run, even

through the best of us

it seems.

Never Say

“Faggot” makes me cringe the same as “human” does.

I shiver in a barely-lighted barroom and I

keep to myself.

I never say a word

I just suck at rail whiskey and

feel my guts burn

The lustful queens are busy

shirtless, dripping, bones jutting from hips, grinding,

with cocks as stiff as scorpions.

And they dance like God naked on rooftops

drunk on cheap moonlight,

His rectum stretched as big as His universe.

They enjoy themselves because

they are unafraid,

and I continue to quake in the corner

and I never say a word.

Until a girl comes up and buys me a drink.

I suck it down like a semen soaked cigarette, and

she says to me: “You’re cute”.

She’s got an ass like a mountain and I go for that,

so I take her home and shove it in to the hilt.

And it feels good and slick and warm like they all do.

But the act is empty like a hornets’ nest in wintertime

and I never say a word.

a drunk

A Drunk by Daniel Eberle-Mayse

Neanderthals

Fall through

My guts

And battle to break me

Beat my bones into

Shapes that I dread.

My great grandpa

Shotgun blasted

A hole in the middle of my chest

Before it was possible

For me to be dead.

Even in dreams I

get muddled

by ghosts

of memories I know

that I haven’t had,

yet, slipping.

A thousand dead drunks

Not bacchanalian or godly

In any sense

All grab at my ankles.

Sad specters in sepulchers, brains

Wet, dripping