voices from white trash

There​ ​they​ ​were
standing​ ​face​ ​to​ ​face.
Sometimes​ ​she​ ​sees​ ​the​ ​echos​ ​of​ ​them
before
The​ ​fighting​ ​and​ ​fucking​ ​and​ ​pills
Before​ ​the​ ​isms​ ​took​ ​them​ ​both
Sometimes
They​ ​are​ ​children​ ​again
Eating​ ​sickly​ ​ripe​ ​mulberries
Carefully​ ​perched​ ​on​ ​the​ ​lowest​ ​limb
The​ ​bells​ ​of​ ​the​ ​laughter
At​ ​the​ ​treasure​ ​found
new​ ​each​ ​day
Such​ ​sweet​ ​delights
Spring​ ​days​ ​on​ ​front​ ​porches
Watching​ ​the​ ​western​ ​sky
Eyes​ ​like​ ​telescopes
Seeing​ ​the​ ​storm​ ​coming​ ​in
The​ ​sweet​ ​smell​ ​of​ ​rain​ ​and​ ​hail
Watching​ ​lightning​ ​strike​ ​over​ ​mesquite​ ​trees
The​ ​thunder​ ​ripping​ ​through​ ​flesh
Those​ ​days​ ​when​ ​all​ ​she​ ​was​ ​was​ ​a​ ​guardian
A​ ​protector​ ​a​ ​mother
Wiping​ ​the​ ​tears​ ​from​ ​her​ ​dirty​ ​cheeks
Doing​ ​the​ ​best​ ​she​ ​could
Fist​ ​bawled​ ​and​ ​wet​ ​with​ ​sweat
​ ​ready​ ​to​ ​take​ ​on​ ​the​ ​world
For​ ​just​ ​the​ ​two​ ​of​ ​them
Those​ ​faces​ ​now​ ​are​ ​distorted
Mangled
Gnarled​ ​and​ ​calloused
They​ ​are​ ​old​ ​and​ ​worn​ ​down
Wrinkled
Too​ ​many​ ​fights
Too​ ​many​ ​fucks
Too​ ​many​ ​pills
Too​ ​many​ ​isms
Too​ ​many​ ​phobias
Love​ ​forgotten
Deeds​ ​lost
Disgust
Pity
Decadent​ ​loathing​ ​is​ ​all​ ​that​ ​is​ ​left
Fists​ ​flying​ ​toward​ ​faces​ ​and​ ​torsos
Words​ ​hurling​ ​through​ ​the​ ​air
Always​ ​catastrophic
Always​ ​climatic
They​ ​will​ ​never​ ​see​ ​each​ ​other​ ​again
Until​ ​they​ ​do

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lr’s son

Light melting through the blue slats
Red lights and sirens
Watching to say we care
But really we are just perverts
degenerates
The drama unfolding across the street
Two men in suspenders carrying him to the stretcher
“Shit at least it wasn’t anything crazy…just another overdose…”
Yeah…
“I wonder if the dealer gave her a sympathy high for her ol’ man overdosing….”

the big bad aunt

i can feel the teeth
of the unliberated lesbian
snapping at my neck
snarling cracking crunching
jaws like a hippo
drops of spittle and hatred
acidic to the soul
your prison is of your own making
you are your own bondage
but my freedom is not yours to toy with
i release myself from your wrath
go fuck yourself with a butter knife and leave me alone

Brand new shoes

Snarling teeth bared for everyone to see

No pretending

No apologies 

Just hatefulness animosity callousness 

Cold sting of the high altitude 

Leaving me afraid of your rabid behavior 

Nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide

Left to the devices of those wanting extermination

Of me and all my kind

Now I shall be baptized into the mist

Junkies

children

Swimming through the rivers

Of blood and poppy mists

Strung out tied up fucked off

Blueprinted into disaster

Burning and broken

Bones cracking mutilaton

horror illuminated 

Gasping for air

A heart beating out of control

Little legs aching to run 

Fingers desperate and undefined

Comfort just out of reach

Always hungry for more

This is no life for them 

Mourn them before breath

A sweet death

Is humane