The Mezunian

Quiza es junio, pero el celeste gris y el aire que es tan frío que puede verlo lo hacen un junio del otoño, ni del verano ni siquiera de la primavera. So there.

What a waste. Without a taste, stretching out for help, but found none in suns on yellow days, frowning drowning pastel clown. Nothing’s sweat in salty tears, only smeared & only itchy make up made up of those years— dark, & yet they still bewitch me. Dump you down my creaky drain, please remind me […]

Recuerdo cuando oía aquella canción en el radio. No la toca no más. … I remember when I heard that song on the radio. They don’t play it anymo’. …

While an authentically equal economy may be perhaps Utopian[1], those from all corners o’ the Quadratic Inanity[2] who usually use this argument to bolster each o’ their own particular form o’ benign capitalism are hypocritical, for capitalism without corruption is not e’en Utopian, but flat-out logically impossible. Hence why it’s ne’er existed, while true equality […]

I’m not ‘fraid o’ the night, where light illuminates the dark & dark illuminates the light; ‘stead I fear the day, when the flesh-faced hunters—Aughooo!—wake, marching out on the open plain, as if we don’t all know what’s @ stake ‘tween our stakes. Day like a desert saps me dry till I become drunk on […]

Lay sorrow for the sorrows I thought I harbored but didn’t, drain, now listen to that same spinning disk I’ve been frisking for days now. How ich bin itching loud. When I’m starving to leave, I say chow, I do. « Cat, get your face off my hand & sit in a marching band. Bash […]

Out o’ the bluein creamy blue–afternoon moon.

Through a web stroll that is now a haze to me—save its origins: an email promising me a job where I can “Mess Around on FaceBook And Twitter!” while making over 700$ a week—I stumbled ‘pon generic-brand Lifehacker known only as Lifehack, whose name only brings me images o’ those clunky pirated games like Super […]

En los sueños vi una obra por Henrik Ibsen que no ha estado visto por nadie jamás. Los actores se sentaba y se hablaba para una hora (pues, a veces uno se levantaría y caminaría al fregadero y miraría afuera de la ventana), pero el reparto incluyó la parca. Después hubo otra obra sobre Pokémon, […]

Limbs sway suggestively in the wind just like shapely human hips. How your leaves scatter here & there as humanoids fling their loose hair. If roughness were treasure, I’d invest in your trunk o’er the hairiest chest; for I know your bronze wood’s renowned & e’en supplements my own. I know your wide black hole […]