Malice in a harsh world. A marble laced with genocide. A venom paired with tranquility. Volcanoes erupt but they create as they destroy. I have immolated myself one too many times. This duality is uplifting. You will find no shelter here. Your grievances stand no chance. Too many bloody battlefields. Not enough resurrection. Life might have endured were it not for heroic annihilation. I pity the future where vengeance exists. Surrender your legacies and watch the oceans boil. Ignite yourself before the sky god does. The odds were never in our favor. The fight is already won. There is nothing left to lose. We will wait in silence as the ropes dangle. The gallows have no ambition. The guillotine has no soul. Avenge me, tidal wave. Avenge me, crimson blood. Avenge me, triumphant martyr. There is no safety net. There is no kill switch. We have abandoned ourselves. We have renounced ourselves
About the Creator
Anna Torres
I’m a 39-year old mother and student. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
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Uranus
First place means nothing. You were already at the finish line. Too stubborn to follow the path, you carved out your own. Radicalized in anarchy, you loved a riot in society. The wind carried you to whatever experiment you designed. The world lay dormant but you built a new one. How can I define a wanderer? You attach to any velcro, you pull on any string. You come and go as you please. You're the non-conformist when there's nothing to rebel against. You're the resistance in a utopia. You're not as abstract as you claim to be. There's no surprise in your theories. There is no tradition to break again. You're no psychic, you're not eccentric. You're nothing special, just a mimic of a person. You wouldn't like what you really are if you ever looked. You're an idea of reflection. There's no explaining you. You are misunderstood. You are condescending. You will spiral into a vortex and come out brand new on the other side. Did you ever really exist? Does it even matter?
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin6 days ago in Humor
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