tepid disco

The Art of Breathing While You're Dead Inside

my head is in the oven
it is electric

it is June 5, 2021

the built-in Plath Safety System
prevents you from turning it on

my hair is beginning to smell
of burnt sugar

my body is still
in the bedroom

the machete is still
in your hand

the oven becomes a toaster
my head becomes a finger
my finger becomes bread
the bread becomes toast

you are butter

it is June 5, 2014

we are in love

I told Kanye West: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He flipped over his iPad, silently, and showed me all the memes.

I told an old black man: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He laughed, pulled the red handkerchief off his neck, showed me his Clint Eastwood, then tried to hail a taxicab.

I told a blind Indian woman: “There is no such thing as hate.”
She took my hand and let me feel the scars from the acid burns on her face.

I told a man in a white hood: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He gave me a thumbs up, then set the wooden cross on fire.

I told a migrant worker: “There is no such thing as hate.”
With her hardened and calloused hands she pulled out her paycheck and handed it to me.

I told an Arab: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He looked me in the eyes and stared.

I told a homeless man: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He pulled me aside and showed me the spikes on the concrete.

I told a gay couple: “There is no such thing as hate.”
They took me down to the courthouse and showed me the law.

I told a runaway child: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He extended his arm and showed me the bruises and the cigarette burns.

I told a teenage girl: “There is no such thing as hate.”
She showed me a magazine, then walked towards a mirror and pointed at her reflection.

I told an old Jewish woman: “There is no such thing as hate.”
She pulled up the sleeve of her blouse, solemnly, and showed me the fading blue-green ink.

I told a sage: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He replied: “No, there isn’t. There is only ignorance, inequality, intolerance, injustice, war, misunderstanding, confusion, fear, untreated mental illnesses, anger, jealousy, greed, pain, retribution, vengeance, envy, laziness, cruelty, perversion, religion…” And on and on he went.

I told a poet: “There is no such thing as hate.”
He wrote a poem.

-purplemonkeysexgod69-

The Irony

March 11, 2014

lost all meaning between a song
and an escalator —

the radio traffic was incomprehensibly
clinging like static on wooden mittens.

Boxes tied up with string failed to make
me miserable because they didn’t have
your cow stomachs like the last time I wrapped
them.

This is a seed text
with seventeen syllables
of brain gelato.

Revolution, like DNA,
replicates while you sleep.

Try not
to wake up
velocirapting.

THIS IS AMERICA, the melting pot,
{insert your curried lamb tacos here}.

art by purplemonkeysexgod69

tus ojos son como lenguas de vacas con salsa fresca, es muy caliente

I.

run towards your dream
not from it
and when they take
away your legs–
crawl
and when they take
away your arms–
fly

II.

as a world completes another
revolution around an unsuspecting sun
we milkshake, we heartache
we splinter, we earthquake
we frost, we cupcake

III.

“Besame, culo.”
she whispers in my ear

her smell as sweet as
petrichor on pachyderms

Mercy. Mercy. Me.

Marigolds

“I love you,” Mandroid HX35465C softly whispered into her ear.

She blushed.

The Militant Feminist Movement succeeded in eliminating every man on the planet Earth on December 1st in the year of our Femlord 2169. Now celebrated annually as XX-Day.

The last man on earth was lured out of his man-cave with a box of freshly made doughnuts, and was subsequently apprehended, judged, convicted of manhood, and sentenced to a violent death via stilettos; which were banned as footwear during the 2076 Geneva Convention, after being weaponized the summer before.

The crusade to rid humanity of men had began earnestly the previous February after Bob (the husband of the world’s most ruthless arms dealer, Susan) inadvertently and unknowingly started the Militant Feminist Movement by forgetting to leave the toilet seat down on Valentines day.