The Sophist

2014-08-07 12:00 am

My balls feel so significent,
Perchance so too my dick,
Refrain from touching it?
Shit,
Don't make me fucking sick.

The Sophist

2014-07-15 12:00 am

Belly poked by intrauterine demise -
 infanticide - now I can poke her in her
 thighs. I fantasized that maybe the baby
 would have cried, or that I would have
 stopped it, crazy by the pain I feel inside.
 Now I swear there's nothing there. I lost the
 key to the divine.

I dreamed a life of orgies but my sex life is
 austere. Who cares? I drink nightly, and dream
 of an affair with a tryst. I jot prose for love
 not there and recite them to the one that I
 declare. I'm sick from life; to levy death is
 fair. I'm too sick to spread my sickness. Give
 them death, who fucking cares?

The Sophist

2014-04-17 12:00 am

Making sure my cock's in my peripheral,
Making sure my stream fails not to stray,
Making sure my dick is not ethereal,
I pray to God my Momma raised no gay.

The Sophist

2014-04-10 12:00 am

It's not easy being green.
It's not easy helping people make their own disease.
My name is Unimportant; 
I carry scopolamine flowers,
And I pay nothing for it.
My name?
I'm Confused;
I carry scopolamine flowers giving greetings profound.
Playing God of the hour,
Fleeting bodies abound.
Falter and fumble and fall to the ground;
Witnessing light of a paradise found.
Leading the blind,
With my feeble eyes,
Misplaced moral outrage,
Attempts to rewind.
To see druidic days,
Where there's bodies unfounded.
Peat bogs set ablaze,
Simple murders unsounded,
Lacking cause,
Mental haze killing thousands,
Our future disgraced,
Pelves smashed and heads pounded.

The Sophist

2014-03-10 12:00 am

My God that dumb-wrecked bitch;
The meaning of a hoe;
She tries perforce for her forget;
Her thrice exclaiming "no".

Her lips are chapped and rapid;
Face smooth and mar'ble;
Her mind a vapid wasteland;
Of her words unknow'ble.

Her bod' a sun-soaked beach;
By fear of under toe;
She tries perforce for my forget;
But hers I can not, no.

And thus some minutes pass,
And thus some minutes pass thereafter,
Pissing in my pants,
Dying forth in crippling laughter.

The Sophist

2014-03-04 12:00 am

Welcome, see the world
Where you are the church
Who feeds on the people
Witless in the lurch
What wonder the whirled
Wire web when the zorch
Watches life through the cheap
Wire under the porch.