I write stories and articles. Sometimes they're good.
It's the blood red, Aryan white, and bruise blue, What kind of meat can I get for you? We have kids with bullet holes at 50 percent off
By CT Idlehouse2 months ago in Poets
Behold! It is I! A fat woman! See all my rolls, My flabby arms, My overlapping belly. Yes, it's true: I'm the scourge of humanity.
You don't like that I call out all your bigot shit, You call me woke, You call me broke, And start throwing a hissy fit.
They kept telling me "God is love," But then did the fucking opposite. Spend so much time praising God above, That you forget the people who exist.
My hands aren't made to touch you... My arms aren't meant to hold babies. My legs aren't made to open for you. My pussy ain't the place for your decrees.
You could have lived out your life in peace, Enjoying the fruits of your labor. But instead of living the dream, You rebuffed it all to be a hater.
Is there a government office not full of sex pests? Is there a church in this country not manned by degenerates? Why are we obsessing about Bubba Trump giving head
By CT Idlehouse3 months ago in Poets
We showed you our numbers, Yet, you didn't get the message. Now you've weaponized hunger, And think you're an invincible threat.
I refuse to be a sacrificial lamb, Butchered and burned, All for the sake of a predatory man. I will not be responsible
Note: This is purely fictional and not a missive to encourage suicidal ideation. Red hair in ringlets, White dress with cream accents.
By CT Idlehouse4 months ago in Poets
An algorithm has never held a brush, Tapped a pencil, Or scribbled on a tablet-- Yet it has replaced The artist, The writer,
The ice box monsters came today... They took my mom and dad away. Mama gave me her rosary beads, But I don't think God is listening.
