Author: DC (Page 828 of 1131)

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CryingJesus, 18
Been sucking cock since I was 11, getting spanked and whipped since I was 12, punished with mouthsoaping and soapy enemas since I was 13, and toilet servitude since 15. I’ve wanted to find a long term Master to go to the next levels for a year and now I’m ready to finish the job. For real.

I desperately need and crave hard severe chest, back and ass beating – belt, flogger, straps, paddles, whips, cane. Hard deep and impactful. Totally destructive. Skin ripped into shreds. Flesh, muscle, bones, internal organs fully exposed.

Comments

CryingJesus (Owner) – March 24, 2020
Yeah there’s that too.

Anonymous – March 24, 2020
You told me you had an incurable brain tumor.

CryingJesus (Owner) – March 23, 2020
Ok truth I’ve been recently diagnosed with a degenerative incurable bone disease that’ll put me in a wheelchair within a year if you want a great reason.

Anonymous – March 23, 2020
What you asking for will almost surely kill you. I don’t think I am mentally ready to do that, I hope that situation changes in the future.

 

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asexual-slave, 19
hey. i dint like sex or butt or cockadoodledoo, don’t even like to see them, mine or anyones. i keep my underwear and you keep your underwear on.

i like to be dehumanised to the max, like to be unable to move at all, a breathing object on display for you, tied down to something or hanging in air or hanging on a wall like art or DIY tied into a position of an object like a computer desk chair for you to use etc. or just on the ground.

Comments

asexual-slave (Owner) – March 17, 2020
if those who take pictures of me on the bus are in here, at least remember to remove the flash next time.

 

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ME&MYBANGBUS, 21
CHEMS AND PATRY EVARYWERE
ME AND MY BANG BUS
GO ENNYWERE YOU WANT
👑YOU NEED – I HAVE👑
EVARY TİME WHEN YOU CALL ME

Comments

pig209 – March 6, 2020
He’s a sarcastic jokester if you both can’t laugh when he farts cum in your face after you breed his ass you probably won’t get along because he will want you to lick it up and spit it in his mouth.

 

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GetMySoul, 19
new in madrid do you enjoy….? (i did not know what to insert here, so i left it to you. If you simply enjoy doing something, hit me up). Please do not send dick pics, i have one myself and i know what it looks like. I’m going into the woods now to lose myself and find my soul.

Comments

funman – March 26, 2020
My biggest fantasy is to shrink you down to an infinitesimal size and enlarge me into a giant Master/God and then crush you like a bug. Odd, I know haha, but I am a horror movie fanatic, and I just had a couple of stiff drinks.

PineNut – March 25, 2020
Was once doing this young Emo sub type on a work trip. He had a great ass so I ate his hole for forever. Eventually asked me to blow air inside him so I did like he was a balloon then he pushed it back out. I was disgusted but took it. Confused why I’m looking for that again but I keep jerking off to it.

Stryda2274 – March 23, 2020
I’d love to shave your head, make you wear a nylon jacket and fist you.

zentaipiss – March 22, 2020
I have a fetish where i want to come over and piss on you. I will be in a zentai suit. I come in and walk you to the bathroom and cover you in my piss. Then I spit on you and leave.

 

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madeofvowels, 19
I have a strong desire to turn my pretty, uppity 19 yr old boyfriend into a prostitute and me into a john who’s paying him for sex. Let’s say for two weeks?

For me this is not about the money, I’m loaded and he has wealthy parents, but about him being no nonsense, obligated, bullshit-free sexual merchandise.

I am looking for a tough male, preferably a gun toting gang banger type to pimp him, rent his body to me for sex. Bargain with me, overcharge me, very realistic. The revenue, money is yours.

Would be paramount if he could be housed and offered for those two weeks in a cheap motel, a dumpy shithole apartment, a crack den, an abandoned car, you get the idea.

Before you ask, yes, you’ll be his real pimp and so he’s yours to fuck, rent out on the side, make some extra money. Just so long as I get a piece of him once a day.

 

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realSUICIDEBOY, 24
*** (censored) *** 100% SuicideBoy * visitable * throughout Germany * Strangeaddict * no taboo * S**ff posible *** (censored) ***

Comments

Anonymous – March 18, 2020
It’s in my freezer but I’ll sell it to you

Anonymous – March 18, 2020
Damn shame to lose such a gorgeous ass

Anonymous – March 18, 2020
Finished off last December

realSUICIDEBOY (Owner) – Oct 27, 2919
If anything about my profile offends you, kindly keep it to yourself and pass me by.

 

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IAMDISASTER, 20
Hi! how are you ?! I’m okay, though I’m homeless and it’s boring. 😒😒😒
I am the proud father of my two wonderful treasures (cats😺😺). People tell me I cooks great👌👌👌. In my free time I usually draw. I used to go on skateboards / cycling trips with my friends before…
I don’t know why but people go mad on my face and say cuteness overload.
I may seem cute and charming in appearance but nothing more wrong, I am a small and eternally devil. 😈
If you are not afraid, write !I will trade all the parts of my body to use without moderation or limit for a place to live with pleasure😜

Comments

IAMDISASTER (Owner) – March 11, 2020
👋🏼

Anonymous – March 11, 2020
Hi

 

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joeyjoeyjoey, 21
sup just seeing whats good, so whats good? Admitedly a bad profile maker

Comments

joeyjoeyjoey (Owner) – March 18, 2020
it isn’t so much nice when people ask

K9guy – March 18, 2020
Want to get knotted?
I’ve got a big dog.
Not pup play.
The real thing.

slamandfist32 – March 17, 2020
looking for multiple anal orgams? im your MAN.

 

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0427552282, 19
Who am I?
Boy meat for butcher

What am I looking for?
Collect me, butcher me, cook me, eat me

When?
ASAP

Limits?
Cut off my hands and feet first

You look familiar..
I was on this page for just over a month, I found my butcher … (MonsterDOM72) however he dumped me. So here I am, starting over. Thanks for that “Sir”. He’s also spreading photos in this site of him “snuffing me”. If you get off on them, you’re being conned!!!

Comments

Anonymous – March 20, 2020
Damn! Everything about you screams kill me and eat me without remorse! Clean you up with my tongue then use my knives and a get a real taste. Let me think if I can pull it off and I’ll get back to you. But … damn!

SluttyGeek – March 13, 2020
Not what you’re asking for but I’m a very heavyset guy 50+ guy who’d love to sit on you and squash you.. I’m serious, break bones, puncture your internal organs, brains oozing out your nose and shit.

0427552282 (Owner) – March 1, 2020
Please for the love of god if you just want to fuck don’t hmu I want to be E A T E N

 

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meetthemonster, 21
My name is Jake but my pup name is Zero, I’m only Zero when I am hypnotised, Don’t be afraid to hypnotise me and get to know Zero!

Jake is beautiful but repulsive. He could meet someone at a bar, leave with him, and never be seen again.

Zero is curious what sleeping with a man would feel like. He’s never touched or been touched by a man before but is willing to try.

Comments

daddyken50 – March 19, 2020
Meet my new dog Zero.

 

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pinocchio, 20
I am very, very into being kidnapped and enslaved by someone who has a very, very large appetite for sex. I know a lot of Masters don’t like this method of obtaining a slave but for those that do, here it is…

Slave is currently on LIFE360 which my code is CDZ-SKJ (expires in 2 days which ill put the new one up when it does). The idea is that you download the LIFE360 app, enter my code and you’ll be able to track wherever I am and whatever time (note:- you only ever need to enter a code once when you add me). This being the case, it makes it ideal for kidnap. You can kidnap me and enslave me and I’ll forever be yours to keep on a permanent basis.

I live with house mate who I rarely see, I work for myself, I have few friends all of whom can’t stand me, and I also don’t speak with family so my situation is perfect for enslavement. I’m also happy to sign a disclosure if needs be. A bottle of poppers is always in my perineum inside my underwear for easy and permanent access.

Comments

TheFaggotWreckers – March 5, 2020
This masochistic, NO limits worthless piece of young scum meat is NOW BROKEN, TRANSFORMED, MODIFIED, RE-PROGRAMMED & DESTROYED and LIVING IN POLAND as the property of an extreme, very sadistic, NO limits group of Masters & Owners. Any messages to this non human will be answered by THE GROUP as soon as it can.

 

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selfphobic, 20
ʎoq ʞɔıs ǝɥʇ ɯɐ ı

 

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Thatperson, 19
I smoke cigs and party heavy but never have any. I love bondage, Ds, leather, costumes, edging, hypnos, sissy training. If all else fails, getting fucked until my brains are mashed potatoes is always a great backup.

If you’re into even younger guys than me, my biological younger brother is also my fag. If anyone wants his ass let me know. If I approve it’s all your. But no tina with him, he has a heart murmur.

Comments

Thatperson (Owner) – March 15, 2020
My brother and I are owned by Klaus008. He is our Master and makes all deciaions for us. Do not contact us anymore.

Klaus008 – March 8, 2020
I loved ramming you and your brother’s holes with dildos and making your faces red screaming ugly and your bodies convulse.

Klaus008 – March 3, 2020
Since few months I’ve found that I like to control teenage boys under sex and I’d like to understand more about this. Want to help?

 

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NeuterMe, 22
I’m only top and I’ve topped many of you but I’m getting tired of manhood and now I’m looking for a man torture, crush and eventually cut off my nuts.

I get extremely aroused thinking about a cop, army veteran, mechanic, fireman, cowboy, construction worker, or farmer holding my nuts in his hands and telling me he’s gonna take them off me.

It could be a pretty straightforward kind of thing where you just saw them off with a sharp knife or a long, drawn out thing where you’d crush them in your hands and then band them and wait for them to drop off.

 

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Welcometoslavelife, 22
I am bulding a harrem of slaves for my Master Bob.

I am slave owned by Master Bob for 4 years. I love groveling around him particularly in public like in Berlin. We have the best time when there are multiple kinky bitches groveling by my side and keeping Bobs feet and cock well serviced. My limits are set by my master but we have done just about everything humanly imaginable. When i do discover a limit I haven’t pushed my master slams me through it.

Between the two of us we can satisfy pretty much every sexual need (cocksucking, piss drinking, shit eating, fistng, fucked, whipped, strangled, beaten, cut, burned, electrocuted …) we are able to foster a space of extreme play and experimentation in a way that doesn’t put to much pressure on new players to do anything they don’t want.

My goal is to find bitches (and sadists too) to add inputs of sexual energy. my Master loves to come home to me and other groveling bitches ready to serve him. He also likes to tie me up and offer my ass out to tops who just want to come and trash my body and pound a load in me. The feeling of spending a night degrading myself and getting my body destroyed before my master is an amazing feeling that I want to share.

Btw to you random horn dogs, my ass does not belong to you or me it is my masters to use and torture for his pleasure.

Comments

KMasterK – March 18, 2020
if anyone interested i am new owner of this slave. after rough 1st munth now he seem happy as a clam. no visitors.

Welcometoslavelife (Owner) – March 2, 2020
That makes so much terrible and depressing sense 😢

Anonymous – March 2, 2020
Bob made me the same offer too, Allen. Btw as a courtesy to you that German pup boy with longer hair, I forget his name, secretly stabbed you in the back.

Anonymous – March 2, 2020
Now that it’s out in the open … I’m sorry, Allen, but Bob offered to sell you to me for 10k on Thursday night.

Welcometoslavelife (Owner) – March 2, 2020
You wish, horn dog 🤣 🖕

DAVIDOFF – March 2, 2020
Poor thing doesn’t seem to realise he’s being eased out, replaced and shopped.

 

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boycave, 18
Str8 boy will put on a hood and submit for anonymous extreme aggro torture

Comments

boycave (Owner) – March 2, 2020
Ill also take a friend or a lover

boycave (Owner) – Feb 28, 2020
Im not sayin your wrong but im drunk again

Anonymous – Feb 27, 2020
If that was true you would’ve deleted your profile.

boycave (Owner) – Feb 27, 2020
Never mind i was drunk

Anonymous – Feb 26, 2020
I’m 24 and I’d love to stomp your hooded face. Would love to stomp the hood so hard the tread of my boots are permanent imprinted on your face!

 

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slaveforlife, 20
I wanna be a Slave for rest me life
I want me limbs be surgical take off

I want got no limbs
I want be 24 7 slave trunk

Don’t want be human

Please someone make me there

Comments

Anonymous – March 19, 2020
Why does the feeling creep in that this profile owner is not interested in sex?

slaveforlife (Owner) – March 15, 2020
Outside of this I love poetry and golf

peterxox – March 12, 2020
I don’t think you grasp what a boring hassle that would make you.

 

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Spiralbutt, 19
Looking to be deeply hypnotized to the point of no return by whoever wants, I don’t care, I’m a demi-sapiosexual.

I could be a shiny, programmable drone.

Or I could be a dumb, mind melted vegetable.

Perhaps I could be a lifelong project, helplessly tied up and brainwashed in perpetuity.

I could just be a himbo, a cute girl, dumb jock, or a spacey hippie (I already am).

Or I could even be your wrapped up mummy sleeping thru eternity as my spinning spiral ass persuades you.

Comments

BoredLetsFuck – March 17, 2020
Yes, I see your point.

Spiralbutt (Owner) – March 17, 2020
Or make it inappurtenant?

BoredLetsFuck – March 17, 2020
Possibly a rhetorical question, but if you want to be deeply hypnotised forever, won’t that negate your demi-sapiosexuality?

Spiralbutt (Owner) – March 11, 2020
They don’t stink.

isniffsmellyfeet – March 11, 2020
I want to sniff those stinky orange socks bro

 

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wontTapOut, 20
Used to be nasty aggressive top. Looking to get fucked real rough hard violent and raw. Want the shearing pain when a dick is forced up me dry. Want to get a load or 2,3,4,5,6,7…. up me. Dont give the tiniest shit what u look like or how many u are. If u can give it i can take it.

Comments

Masterelba – March 13, 2020
Doesn’t mention but he should that all tops have to wear disposable plastic gloves during the fuck/rape. He says it’s for hygiene but it’s obvious some kind of OCD thing or fetish. He also insists you spread a plastic sheet on the floor and fuck him only on that sheet.

 

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lostmyhead, 22
Hi there all you extreme guys!! I’m Lucas, non-binary, they/them pronouns.
Just knowing you’re out there makes me horny all the time!
The idea of getting completely immobilised by bondage or chloroform or drugs excites me, the more deadened the better hehe 😈.
Breath control is awesome. Strangle me! Hehe 😍
Torture is something that makes me crazy horny, but it doesn’t need to be limited to physical pain. It can be words that turn my brain into jelly, whatever comes in mind hehe 😈
I also like extreme, exaggerated ideas. I have a lot of them myself haha 😏😈
Tell me your insane ideas, and I’ll tell you mine. Let’s see what happens 😉
I’m not searching something serious like death but if the feeling is good why not

Comments

lostmyhead (Owner) – March 10, 2020
Clarification for you extremist extreme guys! Maybe death but have be tortured many times before that 🐽🐽

 

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Diapered&Lucky, 20
Hello! Salut! Halo! Bonjour! Ụtụtụ ọma! Dzień dobry! Доброе утро! 肏你妈! My name is Drake and I’m a piece of sh I mean I’m pleased to meet you … I can be your toddler 👼 or your adolescent 👖 but preferably I would be your toddler 😐 🐶 🥼 👝 Not your average kind of toddler: I have enlarged my genitals with silicone injections.

Comments

rhino – March 7, 2020
There’s few things better than laying around with him watching cartoons and burying toys in his ass. I didn’t know how and when to stop cumming.

 

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Fuckstickdreamin, 18
I cant stop fantasizing about having a guy pick me up and make me use drugs. This man would tie my hands back and tapes my mouth. He shoots me up with drugs and as im falling back into the bed he pushes his cock in and fuck me for weeks. Keeping me like a faded fuckstick giving me all the dick he can load after load shot after shot. Id be his stuck whore to rape again and again. Does this sound hot to anyone?

Comments

Fuckstickdreamin (Owner) – March 20, 2020
If you have a good time, then I’ll have a good time.

Anonymous – March 20, 2020
Jump!

Fuckstickdreamin (Owner) – March 20, 2020
Yes it is.

Anonymous – March 20, 2020
is that really you in the pic?

 

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brain0102, 18
I do not want to be overrun. I want to be given time, not kissed right away. Don’t put your hand on my leg immediately, even if you feel like it. Play the real gentleman. I want several times hanging out before your move is made. I want to have simple sex several times before you start to hurt and torture me. There is no character without edges. Mine is social phobia.

Comments

Widebelts2020 – March 14, 2020
FUCK OFF

brain0102 (Owner) – March 14, 2020
No.

Widebelts2020 – March 14, 2020
you lonely?

brain0102 (Owner) – March 14, 2020
Sorry I don’t have a wide belt.

Widebelts2020 – March 14, 2020
i’m a guy who is into wide leather belts
No Undress party,
i want to see you with wide belt.
NO BELT FUCK OFF

 

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FartSlave, 18
I am a fart slave in Southampton looking for one or many more farters to come over and fart in my face. No sex.

 

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GET-THEM-CUFFS-ON-ME-TIGHT-AND-I-MEAN-TIGHT!!!, 20
I just fukin love rigid speedcuffs. They are the business. Put them on right and u can’t get out of em period – even if u got the key!!! You can twist the centre grip also to inflict pain – so what can be better??

I spend as much time as I can in them, when I’m watching the tv I’m cuffed, when I’m sleeping I’m cuffed – any spare time I’m cuffed up – so don’t expect long chats wiv me on here!!!

Cuff me up then leave me or use me, just get those nasty rigid fuckers on me quickly and tightly, double locked with me hands stacked behind me back and I’m yours for the duration …

You can force me to lick your boots, suck ur cock, drink your piss n cum, fuck me raw, fist me, whatever u want – so long as I’m cuffed up I’m meat.

When you’ve finished wiv me just leave the cuffs on then hogtie me, gag me, give me a good bootin wiv your big steel toe cap boots then leave me to suffer. Got a baton, gloved fists etc to work me over wiv too? BONUS!

Irl be ready 4 ya again in the morning then.

 

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BiZarro, 19
Im a no limit teen slave into castration, penectomy no way out. Get me there and Ill do anything.

Bust, punch, whip, electrocute, shred my dick and balls first if you want. Nothing better than having the cum crushed out.

Keep me as your slave until I die, freedom is NOT good for things like me.

NOT in to roleplay, go act in a movie or something.

Comments

BiZarro (Owner) – March 1, 2020
Owned
Under transformation

BiZarro (Owner) – Feb 18, 2020
I am straight forward in my activities with people, in fact the reason men always like me is just because of my policy of being simple as I believe Greatness Lies In Simplicity, how about you, don’t you think so?

 

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lockeddutchboy, 18
looking for someone to pay me to own and hold my chastity key

Comments

lockeddutchboy (Owner) – March 8, 2020
One last thing, i am very proud of my ass!
i was born with a beautiful perfect ass and i have devoted my time to keeping it beautiful
i hope my key holder is someone who will compensate the work I put in to making it look good for him and that he will make sure my ass is the main part of me that he focus on

lockeddutchboy (Owner) – March 8, 2020
Hi back, i’m not looking for anything serious or any kind of relationship on here, i’m seeking something mutually beneficial
i’m the type of boy that says “my pleasure” after i cum, i’m on here to do business only if you don’t want to talk business i’m sorry we can’t talk
yes i know i’m very attractive but im not attracted to you
if you wanna meet you have to be generous period i’m not messing with no broke man

Jeffrey56 – March 8, 2020
Hi, long shot I know but I am a cuck who loves to see boys being used by men I have picked or strangers cruising etc etc. I also like the use of hoods so the boy doesnt see who is using them. That takes payment to the boy, I understand. All I ask is for 100% no cheating behind my back. So with the lock and key thing you seem like you would be would my ideal bf.

 

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holenation, 23
I’ve been into fisting for as long as I can remember. I’ve always needed something up my hole. Took my first fist when I was a very young teenager. It wasn’t until I was 16, and didn’t feel ashamed of my kink anymore, that I started offering my ass to strangers. I get off when I see someone fisting me. I love hearing what others describe what they’re feeling in me. I love it when a guy can surprise me in some way like plunging really deep. I love feeling an elbow try to slip inside me. I love when my hole is gaped and drooling and being felched. A guy sucking on my rosebud and prolapsed rectal sack and snogging me with the felch really gets me going.

Comments

ArseEaterMouthFeeder – Feb 22, 2020
I didn’t fist him but as my name suggests I’m heavily into rimming and have a very, very long tongue that can go four hours and between that and his hole’s busted drawstring I could lick him in even the hardest to reach places and all I can say is.. hot damn!

 

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weirdGaycoupLe, 19
Huge idiots seek intelligence.

We have not yet done our Coming Out is to be taken into account because we do not wish to do it for the moment.

One us has a few extra pounds, he’s very complexed about it (but strangely he doesn’t do anything to fix that)

The first time we met a guy it went bad, it was at a party, there were only intelligent people, we never knew how to speak correctly, we had a hard time.

Some facts about us without throwing flowers:
The heavier guy is rather manual, he is a good handyman. He has already re-electrified old chandeliers and other lamps. He also repairs mechanical clocks when possible. He also built a piano by himself.

The slimmer guy is good at cooking, ironing, washing, sewing, cleaning, waxing, patching up. In short if you are looking for the Cinderella of modern times, it is him.

Just don’t hurt us and please don’t make us sick.

Comments

Chris – March 23, 2020
Pssst, they’re both big fans of Poetry Slams.

SinisterSexSlut – March 12, 2020
Hello, This is what I want with you two- and Im serious. We will meet for a pleasant day out together in a neutral British or Irish city to begin. I will capture you at some point (however I can) and put you both in chains. Then I will tell you that I’m going to hunt you for sport.

You will be taken into nature naked, and I and some friends, all in traditional hunting attire, will hunt and capture you. I will ball gag you, put you back in chains and put you in cages. You will never see those friends of mine again, ever, so don’t get attached.

Later, I will dress myself and you both in fine formal attire. Perhaps over a formal meal. And I, with a paddle in hand, will paddle you both for an evening and ask if you would like to surrender?

When you do you be given dogtags small and discreet enough to go under suit and tie so no one will ever notice. The dogtags will have an emblem of the British Monarchy of some kind (we can discuss if you wish). The paddle will have something meaningful on it (we can negotiate and discuss).

I will paddle you both until I feel there wont be any rebellion. And then I will tell you that your future careers will be in property and real estate, that you will succeed in whatever way possible or face the riding crop to motivate you. That you will wear conservative suits at all times outside, and that you will wear formal military parade dress indoors so that your loyalty is on display for me from then on.

The day you surrender we will celebrate my triumph over you by wearing morning suits and hats, and it will be called Triumph Day or something as such. We will develop it over time.

The bedroom I will keep locked. It will be lined with paintings of the British Empire. The bed will be large enough for three. You will not have permission to even touch the bed, ever, unless I ring a concierge service bell. After that you may kiss my feet and then come onto the bed. When leaving this room, you must always turn and clack your heels in respect to me, or face the riding crop.

Down the line, years, it will be your duty to ask for my hand in marriage and to pay for all costs from then forth. At which point I will hot brand my initials on you in a spot where it is not at any risk of being seen wearing a suit.

When responding would you kindly write ‘cutlass’ so I know you have read all of this?

 

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preciousjim, 24
I am a major slave and I have experience in every thing , if you want my loyalty I guess you should be able to transport me from wherever I am to anywhere you are , this is no game , i know how hot I am , I know you want to pig out on me , i’m tired of being worshipped , so let us be guided , I’ve been a slave for many years , I am looking forward to a master to make me a worshiper , so figure it out

Comments

Masterkck – March 26, 2020
He is now encased head to toe, locked and bound tight, stored in extreme isolation and will be for a very long time. You’re welcome.

Hansonhh – March 13, 2020
he’s a very arrogant bottom punish him

Anonymous – Feb 25, 2020
What a magnificent corpse he would make!
I would like to get his corpse’s underwear down with my teeth!

hello_dickhead – Jan 31, 2020
Stunning to look at and fuck but his mind is shit.

 

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heygivemesome, 18
CAUCASIANS ONLY!

Round and round goes the spinning wheel. Spinning and weaving a red thread of fate.

I’m an atheist, but I’m deeply into Satanism! I’m wearing a Luciferian Pendant around my neck that I find Dark, Edgy, and Appealing!

I have stage 4 cancer. Looking to have fun as long as I can. Give a nice boy a chance.

Around the 16th I’ll be closing this account; once this account is gone, I’m gone.

Comments

deepfried – March 21, 2020
His Name Was Tim.
He Worked At Goodwill But Was Fired Because Of Hours Cut.
He Was Like No One That You Ever Met.
But I Must Tell You He Could be Aggressive.
And The Rest Is History

heygivemesome (Owner) – Feb 2, 2020
Don’t offer me weird shit or stuff, I’m just here because I’m dying so just fuck me if it tempts you.

I-will-hurt-you – Feb 2, 2020
Let’s start by saying I have a contract you have to sign.
I like torturing teens’ holes, cocks and urethras, nipples, balls and arses, throats and faces.
I love to torture the teen body to the point of pass out, breath play, choking, bagging, gassing, induced overdose.
I like to make you empty your bodily fluids and I drink them to get stronger.
It’s a promise that if the teen is found guilty of any form of disobedience or act it will be punished by death.
No teens with heart conditions accepted.

 

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Pandorasbox, 20
Stoner Aquarius into Golden Girls. ✌🏻 and 🛸. Amazing ass, definitely want to try some stuff with this ass. Not sure about the rest of me.

Comments

jimmyb975 – March 14, 2020
Let’s shave our heads! I love the feeling of being bald and I want the same for you.

 

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Boy->Bot, 23
Extremely happy to let someone enjoy me whilst I lay unconscious from chloro, drugs, sleeping hold, etc.

Need someone who isn’t afraid to use my sleeping body and do whatever they please with it.

I love limp play. It’s important to me. I need to be wanted without knowing it. Talk to me before you knock me out and I’ll tell you all about it.

I also have a belly button fetish so someone who likes to suck on mine that is always welcome.

Comments

StinkPig – March 4, 2020
He look even better coated in layers of cum, piss, spit, vomit and shit.

Boy->Bot (Owner) – March 2, 2020
I agree, my snap is gdorgone33 if you wanna set it up.

Orris – March 2, 2020
You need to be kidnapped raped and permanently enslaved. You were born with those looks and that body to serve others and nothing else and you should live the rest of your life naked unconscious and doing whatever your kidnapper wants.

 

______________

Bi$exualLittle$toner$exToy, 21
Little bisexual pothead Latvian here looking to setup dates for himself to be face smacked and punched Raped too if you want but must be generous as though heaven is on earth Cash rules everything around me dolla dolla bill yo.

Comments

Anonymous – March 11, 2020
I was going to suggest raping him then picking up a crow bar and shattering his skull like a fucking vase.

Raishiin – March 7, 2020
i was gonna recommend punching him hard enough that slipping bills in his pocket after you rape him is optional

zzz10 – March 3, 2020
I recommend paying for the rape.

 

______________

Accept, 18
My name is Benjie, 16 years old from the beautiful place San Carlos. Everyone can agree that I am good sex and that I like to do it. My favorites are kissing and anal. I am going to enter slavery because my goal is to study sex further and to become a respected professional in this field.

I can say that I am a hard-working sex boy. Moreover, being a sociable person, I have many sex friends since I like to communicate with people and have sex with new interesting individuals. I enjoy my time in sex: it is really nice to do it, the men are very friendly and ready to have sex with me. The atmosphere cannot but make me want to have sex every time. I like to receive and deal with challenging requests. I am a very enthusiastic sex boy and I think this is a strong point of mine.

My sex friends say that I am a very cute and an interesting fuck with a good sense of humor. As soon as I meet new people who are happy to fuck me, I feel extremely comfortable with them. I believe that sex friendship is one of the most important values in human life. We exchange new experiences, find many interesting things about each other’s bodies.

Meeting new people who support all my efforts to grow and develop my sex skills gives me a lot of energy. Many of those sex friends who surround me now I met on the street. I’m in love with photography, so the thing I love doing so much became even more enjoyable. I decided to take beautiful pictures of people having sex with me and share these photos with them by emails or in social media. I feel happiness inside seeing how horny they are looking at the pictures where they are fucking me and other things.

The goal I’m currently striving for is to make this world a better place to live in by starting the changes with myself. Sure, I’ve had bad experiences in my life too, but this is exactly what made me the way I am now: grateful, full of love, with a desire to give the best sex I can because it will help me become a successful person in future and have a high quality of life. I believe that it is manifesting day by day. With all I already have, I know that I’m on the right path and I will do my best that my body inspires others to live the way they feel like living as well.

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. I’m relatively okay with the home confinement, although it’s getting old, but having to fill/print out a government form stating exactly where I’m going, why, when I left home and will return home every time I put one foot on the sidewalk is something I hope I’ll never get remotely used to. ** Kyler, Hi. I understand the Karen Carpenter thing, and get why the neutrality in her singing is affecting, but I don’t feel it. I’m fine, man. You sound fine too, whoop. Zoom/ video/ Facetime/ Skype are soulsavers for sure. ** Armando, Hi. Me too, and no doubt it will, but fuck knows when. I certainly recognise what you say it’s like where you are. I hope it doesn’t get even worse, although … it will. Sweet: the Gary Shipley quote. He’s one heck of a writer. You’re like a ‘writer’s writer’, which is the ultimate kind of writer if you ask me. Best day you can get to you. ** _Black_Acrylic, I was indeed at that Cal Arts performance, which was before Mike and I became friends but when he was already a living legend, and it was, as you can well imagine, mind-blowing. ** Sypha, Hi, James. That’s cool re: your brother. I assume he’s banging away a lot these days? I’m glad you’ll get some pay, and I seriously hope the BN store survives ‘cos it’s probably going to be quite a while before they could reopen. Surely the perversity of writing pleasant tales under these circumstances is an form of perversity the only fuels you? ** Tosh Berman, Thanks, Tosh! Indeed about the coin toss. Sabrina said things are still a ‘go’ so far, so … A little tough to believe it’ll actually happen, though. Zac and I are scheduled to be on a panel at MiLA about home haunts this fall, assuming. ** Nick Toti, Hi, Nick! Oh, very cool. Wow, that does sounds extremely intriguing. Okay, uh … I’ll just let you lay out the offer here in your own words, I guess. Everyone, Fine, fine filmmaker Nick Toti, a couple of whose previous films have had splashy premieres here on the blog, has a new film just launched for everyone including us. I will let him explain and direct you to it. Take it away, Nick. ‘I wanted to share a new work for you/everyone stuck inside. I just finished it the other day, and since there’s no other venues available to show it, I’m just releasing it online right away. Here’s the backstory: It’s another collaboration I did with the author Jarett Kobek. He wanted to promote his new novel by going on right-wing media and debating the hosts (he was especially focused on meeting Ben Shapiro). The idea was that he might create viral attention if these “debates” devolved into childish arguments and name-calling. He asked me if I wanted to document the process (which ended up being far more complicated/ridiculous than we had anticipated) and of course I said yes. I thought it was going to be a short, but then it ended up being 90 minutes. A friend of mine who’s a literature professor called it something like “a movie for us dying breed who still care about books.” Seems like a good fit for the crowd here. Anyway, here it is.’ Excited to watch it, man. Thanks so much! ** Bill, Hi. I loved the gig. It got me through the day. And, yeah, the raucousness was a boon. You guys make a very nice trio. Thanks a lot for that! ** Thomas Moronic, Hey, T! Thanks, pal. Oh, shit, right. I mean that the printing is held up due the quarantine. I didn’t even think about that. Okay, damn, well, just say the word as soon it gets printed and is winging its way back to Philip, and let’s do a launch here to beat the band, etc. What a world. ** Misanthrope, Eek, okay, yeah, hopes are high. It’s virtually complete but for some fiddling. (Early) huge congratulations, sir! One would think it might be a little while before places you would submit it to are up and ready to consider submissions, or maybe it’s the opposite actually, and they time galore on their hands. Hm. I remember reading about that Suede tour when he had a broken leg. I saw The Dickies play way back when, and, at one point, the singer Leonard climbed up on a balcony and jumped onto the stage and just crumpled, sang the last couple of songs on his back, and had to be carried off, and he’d broken both of his legs in several places and had to do the rest of the Dickies tour in a wheelchair. ** Steve Erickson, I listened to a squidge of Baxter Dury, and, boy, he really does basically have Ian’s voice. Cool that the beat making continues, and very cool that you’re gaming for the Warp contest. Strangely, and maybe it’s a ‘French’ thing, but nobody I know here is depressed in quarantine at all. A little grumpy, but that’s about it. So far. ** Bernard, Hi, B! Good to see you in these dark days. Yeah, I’m mostly okay with the home lockdown, but I really miss seeing my friends. I was surprised and of course very pleased to see you’re doing that Zoom workshop. And it’s through Rhizome? Did I get that right. I love Rhizome. Do give the locals here an alert if you do that other group, yes, please. If I even think about the USA under virus attack with Trump smearing himself all over it I almost literally go into shock. I’m managing surprisingly well thus far, as you clearly are too. Yeah, please pop in here when you get the mood to. It’s a very nice thing. ** Barkley, Hi. Oh my God, ha ha, that is so cool! The PGL poster you made in your Animal Crossing game. That’s amazing! Thank you very much, kind one! You rule! ** Okay. The slaves are here to remind you that rent is due tomorrow for some portion of you. I’ll also note that this is the last slaves (or escorts) post that was largely put together before the international lockdown started driving everyone in those realms completely crazy, as you will start seeing for yourself in a couple of weeks. See you tomorrow.

 

Every poet should want to be knocked off course by some incredible new-to-them poem, whether it’s contemporary, ancient, or from any of the several hundred misery-infused centuries humankind has inflicted on the earth. Nobody should need to know whether a poem is important or permanent before allowing him or herself to get renovated by it.

Yet panel after panel shows our poet-critics back at it, trying to prognosticate what-comes-next, which is really (paradoxically) a diagnostic tool for determining “what will be permanent.”

The Future of Poetry, it would seem, is an eternal question.

The Future of Poetry will be an eternal chain of panels discussing the Future of Poetry.

The Future of Poetry begins to look like the panelists. I’m talking to myself again.

The Future of Poetry will be a decision made by textbook editors and syllabus-designers and prize-hander-outers and best-of-list-makers (Will there be poetry textbooks in the Future of Poetry? Will there be anything else? Is the Future-of-Poetry anything but a pedagogic mode?).

But Poetry will keep on swarming incompatibly in the valley of its own making, a way of happening, a mouth. That valley is a cave, that cave is full of guinea pigs: here in the gorge, here in the stack, here in the heart of the guinea pig darkness.

It looks like Mommy is having another litter.

And Hell has many mouths. — Joyelle McSweeney

 

Joyelle McSweeney Site
‘Seeing Voices’, by Joyelle McSweeney
THE TOXIC AND THE LYRIC IV
Acts I, II and IV from Pierrot le Feu an Epithalamium
Buy ‘Toxicon and Arachne’

 

Book

Joyelle McSweeney Toxicon and Arachne
Nightboat Books

‘In Toxicon & Arachne, McSweeney allows the lyric to course through her like a toxin, producing a quiver of lyrics like poisoned arrows. Toxicon was written in anticipation of the birth of McSweeney’s daughter, Arachne. But when Arachne was born sick, lived briefly, and then died, McSweeney unexpectedly endured a second inundation of lyricism, which would become the poems in Arachne, this time spun with grief. Toxicon & Arachne is the culmination of eight years of engagement with lyric under a regime of global and personal catastrophes.’ — Nightboat Books

‘Grief and anger, too, spiral here, with snarl and venom that may stun none who know this searing, delirious, furious poet’s work. Yet, in the seething Toxicon & Arachne, McSweeney wields her wildest knife while making public her arcing, her aching cuts of deep and private mourning without blinking. It’s stupefying.’ — Douglas Kearney

‘Joyelle McSweeney’s Toxicon and Arachne is a very remarkable book. She deals with a vast array of the physical and spiritual, without ever succumbing to the tired cliches of our current stale poetry scene. The book beggars all description but its own incredible inventions, both lyric and tragic (and much else). All otherhow and otherwho…’ — Mac Wellman

Excerpt

from Toxic Sonnets: A Crown for John Keats

I read about the tubercle at night
and I went under. As a crime scene can excite
a drop of lumen to exude its hit of light, I shed wet
light. I wrap the motel room in light. I carry knives
bladed with sputum, and an instinct for spite
like a tree that reaches upward for the heat and wants to burn
or lay down in the slurry for the churn
to paper. Write me
down, chum me, make me into chyme,
spit me out to lay in sawdust like a germ
then burn me. I release a noxious smell.
Dose me with aminoglycocides
till I give in, then lay me in your litter.
I’m a threat to life.

**

I’m a threat to life, a violent butter.
I spread my toxic inklings like a cloud
-seeding-drone, & drop on crops my shake
of violet water. As the clotted vena cava
sucks dye for the camera, a violent thought
turns all my justs to anger. A fist of cloud
breaks the crowny crater, which vomits up
its own grand cru, palpates the sternum
of the sky for ulcerations. O fish in flume, resting
on your mutagenic breasts, who do you give
your milk to. O mouth that cannot close, oh planet cleft
what cache of weapons do you lean on as you dream
in your pleural cavity, desertified, depressed.
Bad host, you clutch your guest.

**

Bad host, you clutch your guest. Green seam
fluoresces in night vision, signature of
heat and flesh. Green ghost
lifts headline to the camera, proof of life
washed white by sudden flash. From satellite,
Earth turns on spit like a gut infloresced
with bad intentions. A god descends
with gifts of poetry and plague, he lights up
factory hens, a baffling intervention. They tote
their viral load on wheel, on wing, on breast,
transmigrate the globe and upload
souls to Heaven. O victor-bird, o vector,
I am like you, a non-state actor,
Death-fletched, alive, immune to all elixirs.

**

Death-fletched, alive, immune to all elixirs,
I sit like a drone pilot at a dock of screens.
My attention is a fang that sinks through plasma
like a toxic arrow or a tooth in Coke. I’m fine.
I’m sick. I grip a joy-stick. Outside, a pink
crust announces evening, buzzards ride
heat signatures at dusk. Inside, plasmodium
reshapes itself, now a slipper, now a gauntlet
tossed down in the gut, and now a Glock, a mouse,
a Mauser, the lucky cloud that mounts the hill
to breaks its blessing on the forehead of the bride
or the wedding guest who’s dead
yet cocks his eye
at any light now breaking in the sky

Extras

YETI STET (ROCK STEADY REMIX) by Joyelle McSweeney

Poetry Lecture by Joyelle McSweeney, 11.13.15

Joyelle McSweeney—Dark Sonics

 

_______________

 

‘The queer poet Lonely Christopher, 33, came of age in the Great Recession, wherein the postwar promise of homeownership was gouged out by neoliberal austerity measures. A house in the suburbs could no longer justify capitalism, yet it appeared that capitalism needed no further justification — an entire generation could be displaced, saddled with debt, derided as lazy and entitled. For queers, the material deprivation was accompanied by the advent of marriage equality, wherein lobbyists and media pundits instrumentalized the promise of homeownership for political maneuvers. Audrey’s daydream of “a matchbox of our own / a fence of real chain link,” once an expression of genuine queer longing, now pointed to the daydream’s ultimate emptiness. “I had to build a wall / around the pain,” writes Christopher, “but walls don’t work / the very concept of a wall / is insane.”

‘Of course, walls work great for straight people. This might be why Christopher devotes much of his latest collection, In a January Would, to the act of demolition: “Gallons of two percent milk mixed with Ballantine Ale / the adamantine smell of calamitous blood / rushing skyward from the gutters through the floor / rats, millions of them, and forgiveness.” If an image is conjured, the reader can expect the poet to immediately deface it; a serene autumn visit to beautiful Fire Island features “a vial of poppers leaking / into the red wine stain / on the red carpeted floor” and “the strains of a boy’s cum floating in a champagne flute.”

‘Never does the vandalism register as gratuitous or geared for shock value, nor does it eschew affect or emotion altogether. Rather, In a January Would suggests that under capitalism, vandalism is inherent to the queer experience. It’s wicked and inscrutable, sure, but to ignore it is to reject a crucial aspect of identity. For Lonely Christopher, to leave our world intact is the true act of violence.’ — Quinn Roberts, LARB

 

Lonely Christopher Site
Walls Don’t Work: On Lonely Christopher’s In a January Would
Lonely Christopher on Kevin Killian
Five Poems by Lonely Christopher
Buy ‘In a January Would’

 

Book

Lonely Christopher In a January Would
Roof Books

‘Lonely Christopher broke up with his boyfriend in Père Lachaise Cemetery on Christmas Day and subsequently produced this intense and trenchant verse series written from one January to the next, using poetry as durational art to track a heartbreak and the ensuing attempt at recovery over the course of a rough year, half of which spent homeless. Abandoned in an indolent postcollegiate haze, searching for meaning but more often finding trouble, Christopher explicates the perverse beauty of a brutal world—from the rooftops of Paris, to the gutters of Brooklyn, and even through the snowy Protestant woods of Connecticut, the poet navigates harsh social realities with style and rigor. The melodrama of time’s passage is on full display as Christopher parses themes of alienation, oppression, and cynicism in a journey through the four seasons. This is a unique break up book that uses the grief of lost love to develop complex and implicating emotional thematics in a refreshing rococo style.’ — Roof Books
​
‘The title In a January Would feels like a medieval or Swinburnian delicacy, but what follows is rather full of contemporary vigor. The poem titles read as songs on an endless album. A legacy of modernism—the rigorous and angular attention to language that is also a queer inheritance—or rather the reckoning with it, persists through the texts. Always thinking of Duncan and H.D. and Wieners, Rimbaud and his boyfriend. These obdurate and opulent poems are as indestructible as the carvings on a tomb yet as transient as cloud writing. Lonely, ‘you make me feel like a picked zit that just won the Nobel Prize’ and that’s a good thing. Thanks for being so brave for all of us who walk this funny path.’ — Ana Božičević

Excerpts

EX-BOYFRIEND ON THE BEACH

I pissed on a church the blameless ships and the bough

twisted aways; I kissed you in the narthex for sandy

seconds, cruised into the ocher culpability of summery

tributes there is a lingering government in this fade

out for pixels may sting they may wake you nightly

“trust” blisters, dematerializes, the magic of your brain

roasting under a long prospect of crystal stars, as if

a dawn was made for us or surrendering, fettered gulls

given into the sea, the sweat on a can of diet soda

that sort of thing, your coarse tongue enjoying the ridges

of the roof of my mouth and the hustle the ride to

the edge of the island in a stolen moving van, slaves

producers, poetasters, and the emergence of a new

vernacular, what the all-seeing eye cannot capture

and the fictional data crowding my view from this

time share pull the strings your sunglasses dip

down the bridge of your nose, sweat mixed with

sunscreen and dried come splashes into your eye

and from a nostalgic and forlorn vantage I watch

the endless slideshow, ersatz vacations, pictures of

you turning somersaults, turning gold in the comely

glow of another yet another fucking impossible beach

the fantasy of a finch with a potato chip in her mouth

the day that I know I need to meet you at the end of

 

THE ROAD TO THE TEMPLE OF HONOUR AND FAME

Does a diamond desire itself?

The eagle we know is better than not

escaped in a frigate, preparing to live

vibrancy and rise, just to say and try it out.

While we might as well, might not

it does not seem that you learned from your own example

men and woman and a stroll through the morass

small counties, piteous churches, lurching

you’re not going to be able to stand up to this.

What is the thing that we need, what is it

is it what I take from you when I touch your cheek

or what disappears before me in the dank cave?

Put your hand inside me and become political

caress a hapless farmhand in the outhouse

at the edge of the formal property, attain

or arrive on the bus every day like the rest of them

we all come on the bus we all bow down to masters

of how we do, how we work it out, windows.

I don’t know about you but I was born

to burn the land up

chock full of sin and wonderment

and right now all I want to do is walk down the street

with you and cogitate my small rebellions

I was alone until I met this guy on the Down Low

asked his HIV status, he said, “I don’t know none of that shit.”

His grandma was in the living room, he cried

as he fucked me, I used it as cruel fuel, I dreamt

that my mother took me to the cinema to see Snow White

when I was a little child, buckled up in the back seat

bellowing for alternative monies and preparation

savage as it is, it is the stand, it is where it is going

desire, desire, desire, give me the Supreme Court

give my dad a simpler time when men were men

and a boy could fend off comestible hegemony

by one wave of his magic wand in the parking lot

the eagle opens and clutches, we make the relationship.

We go away, let a formidability pass and spread

put you on the floor girl you are good, you’re dead.

I will make a hundred mistakes and fuck grace

before it is gone away, before it is generated and mad.

We are your unqualified parents, motion for the speaker

on the previous question to table the appeal

on the outstanding parliamentary procedure

to foreclose the following vote for

the approaching amendment for procedure

forecloses and proceeds to the ground

and gets made to be a worse species of your unconscious love.

Extras

Lonely Christopher, “In a January Would”

Lonely Christopher, “Brooklyn”

Double Take 29: Lonely Christopher

 

_______________

 

How long did it take you to write The Intangibles?
Elaine Equi: It took about four years. It’s ninety-six pages long, so that comes to about two pages per month. I usually write more than that, but a lot gets thrown away.

What was the most challenging thing about writing the book?
EE: About three-quarters of the way through the book, there was a fire in my apartment building. I was home at the time and one of the few things I grabbed before running out to the street was the manuscript. Luckily, no one was hurt, but it was incredibly disruptive. I had to put everything in storage and wasn’t able to return to my place for a whole year while repairs were being done. I finished the first draft of the book while sitting in a hotel lounge drinking iced tea. I was glad to have a project to focus on that made me feel more in control. I didn’t write about the fire directly, but the whole experience took me out of my comfort zone in what was ultimately a good way. Rather than knowing exactly how the book should unfold, organizing it became a way for me to respond creatively to the unexpected.

What is the biggest impediment to your writing life?
EE: My nerves. I’m a moody person and sometimes I just can’t access the clarity and objectivity—the equanimity—I need in order to write. I have a line in one piece that says: “My poem that still suffers in the twenty-first century from neurasthenia.” Life often moves too fast for me.

 

Elaine Equi @ Poetry Foundation
American, Me?
Bent Orbit
Elaine Equi @ Twitter
Buy ‘The Intangibles’

 

Book

Elaine Equi The Intangibles
Coffee House Press

‘Always count on Elaine Equi’s nimble gymnastics to flip the ordinary around and create something rich and strange . . . These poems do not wear their brooding hearts on their sleeves but rather flirt and banter, drawing us close before revealing their ruminative complexities.’ — Albert Mobilio, Hyperallergic

‘Elaine Equi is curious about where we’re headed. What do we have in common after all—a brand, a mini-series? It’s the intangibles that fascinate, whether morphing through robotics, noticing the new ‘featurelessness of things’ with citizens staring into their palms, or finding ourselves stalked by a hologram. It’s the mystery of our ever-weirder world where the machines dream us. Amusement was the beneficent state Frank O’Hara recommended and in a post-post-reality it’s what Equi has in quantum leaps, in her Zen-ish DNA. This is a book for now and for the future, a panacea and antidote to the fear of the inane unknown. Equi’s elegant control of line, image, percolating observation is always a taut surprise. I feel better already. Inside these subtle poems, complete little universes, there’s never a dull moment.’ — Anne Waldman

‘Elaine Equi’s perfect pitch sends her wry voice in directions no other contemporary poet knows how to visit. She trims a narrative to its mad essence; she winnows lyric into a shape more giddy than aphorism, more delirious than koan. Reality, in Equi’s eyes, is pleasantly disrupted by words—her words, which are regular citizens of their sentences but also strangers to all normative modes of behavior. Read The Intangibles for the tangible joy these generous epistles give.’ — Wayne Koestenbaum

Excerpts

The Thing Is

What is the difference between objects and things?

Things, I think, have less personality.

These days, all objects are antiques—hearken back to an era of hands handling them.

Playing cards, wooden matches, buttons, plush stuffed bears—we recognize them from the still lifes where they once quivered.

They were—are—tools, curios, refugees from the modernist era.

Of course, we still have these things. But now they are like us, just things.

They no longer celebrate their secret identity—the inner life once bequeathed upon even objects.

They are a bit featureless. One thing not so different from another.

 

This Is Not a Poem

the poem exists
always and only
in the mind
of the reader

and these words
can never be more than
arrows, breadcrumbs

a map of abbreviations
however crude or elaborate

the poem comes into being
as the writer reads
and the reader anticipates

one can fill every inch
with writing and still
be no closer to the poem

as it lies there
a liar with a beautiful voice
that is often mistaken for silence

 

Poem

Like a window
open in winter

I look to the edge of
hair, teeth, nails

Too busy to be internal
libido calmly rushes

in one orchard
and out another

Its knotted weather
spreads brightly.

Its peach thread melody
is squandered away.

Extras

Earth, You Have Returned to Me by Elaine Equi

Readings in Contemporary Poetry – Elaine Equi and Jerome Sala

Poet Elaine Equi reads from Ripple Effect

 

______________

 

The evening after they discovered the tumor growing inside of me, I found myself sitting in my small home office, completing the last bits of the semester’s grading. Seemingly out of the ether, the lyrics of a song came to me: And I know it, I can’t see it / But I know it enough to believe it. I put my pen down, rested my head against the window next to my desk, and closed my eyes. From where did Hole’s “Jennifer’s Body” arrive? Why this song, now? My thoughts were plangent, and as the melody and lyrics continued to run through me, I was transported to the smazy memory of my younger self staring out a car window at a yellowing beach town, mouthing the words, “Sleeping with my enemy myself.”

It was in the spring of 1995 that my mother was diagnosed with stage IV invasive epithelial ovarian cancer, and it was late in the summer of that year that I was taken on vacation by my friend D’s parents. I don’t remember much about the vacation itself—a snapshot of bodysurfing, a faint recollection of falling asleep at a late-night screening of Waterworld—but I do recall the car ride from Philadelphia, particularly the music piping through my cheap headphones: Hole’s Live Through This, Rancid’s Let’s Go!, a sample CD from the College Music Journal featuring songs by Teenage Fanclub and the Circle Jerks that fascinated me. The interstate became clogged and dusty, two-lane, and as I sat in my office, I could recall the intermittent view of a wave rolling toward shore interrupted by rows of stilted clapboard vacation homes, all while Courtney Love wailed, “Make me real, fuck you.”

It was a rasping demand that I appreciated back then. My mother spent most of her time in bed or on the couch, gray and vomiting and suddenly hyper-religious, while my father worked in the day and spent sleepless nights caring for her. His parents lived with us for a while. Besides games of Scrabble and gin rummy, we all found few ways to bridge the gaps between us. I had friends, of course, and their well-meaning parents who carted us around to various activities or allowed us free reign to run around, but none of it mattered to me. It all seemed like a prefab distraction to which I was supposed to resign myself. Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a well-meaning ruse, I also couldn’t slough the inkling that there was something deeply wrong with me, that I was an unreal target of an immense plot.

In my head, the vacation with D and his family remains at the center of this plot, of this whole time period, even though many specifics of the time near the seaside have slipped away. Other than the music that obsessed me, my sharpest memory of the trip is when, during the last slog in the family sedan, I proclaimed that Courtney Love was a genius. For a moment, C’s mom and dad looked at each other. Then one of them dismissed my enthusiasm by denigrating Love as “crazy” or something similarly pejorative.

The contemptuous tone of their reaction solidified what had already been congealing: that my dim view of my circumstances as a being in this world would never be recognized as legitimate, and that the conspiracy of distraction was not imagined. I was not presumed to feel anger, pain, or bitterness, and when the extraordinarily vivid reality of those emotions came to the fore, they could be discarded by others as easily as my expressions of joy and exuberance, of identification. I put my headphones back on: No one cares, my friends. — Ted Rees

 

Ted Rees Site
Ted Rees @ timelesslightinfinite
Podcast: Ted Rees with Ariel Resnikoff
CATACLYSM’S OPEN ROAD AND BURNT RUBBER: A CONVERSATION BETWEEN JAMIE TOWNSEND AND TED REES
Buy ‘Thanksgiving: A Poem’

 

Book

Ted Rees Thanksgiving: A Poem
Golias Books

‘Named for a fast-food sandwich and written during rounds of chemo, Ted Rees’s second book is a poem comprising 498 linked haiku and sent coursing through the “cemetery / Of repressed anguish” that is America. The haiku form, which should dilate into bowers of momentous stillness, succumbs in Rees’s narrative extrusion to a torrential historicity: the poem moves at the relentless pace of a police scanner, dream-fed on Cinnabon and petroleum byproducts, a stream of consciousness that is at once revenue stream, live stream, blood stream, click stream, stream dammed to flood and tapped for bottled water. The old transparent eyeball and anaphoric “I” of the pioneer imaginary, profligate as Johnny Appleseed sowing virgin lands with exclamation points, are bounced as trappings of colonial venturing. Rees’s “wild mad” song counters the barbarism of the imperial yawp, burrowing underneath the remote-investment realtyscape of payday loan franchises, strip-mall churches, and detention centers doubling as urgent care clinics. If not precisely hopeful, the poem hints at the isolated prospect of relations running counter to accumulation, of affect eluding capture, of guarded solidarity among those sheltering in the crooks and crannies of blasted overburden: preteen pyros torching lilacs in the dooryard, dropouts lighting out for the backcountry, and militant recusants disappearing into abandoned office parks. THANKSGIVING is a queer and delirious poem of making do in the long tail of empire.’ — Golias Books

Excerpt

The proposal came:
noisome ideology
of cities plopped down

in cities. How cool,
let me lay here in the sun
until my dream’s done

feeling mellow and
the hills are on fire, focus
grouped epilation

crawling toddler-like
AC-chilled purgatory
a drive-thru order.

I listened to way
too much punk rock as a kid
and reside there still

in part, so easy
a tell: this poem’s rough attempt
at starting a pit,

a crazed whirl masking
highly ordered behaviors
of intimacy,

equilibrium,
a critique of dominance
while sucking it off,

the far harbor of
tongue both an imposition
and imposed upon.

My Awesome Wishlist:
a color without a logo–
tattooed guillotine–

the dancing flambeaux–
naked pesto slip-n-slide–
these are normal things.

What’s abnormal is
the taste is gonna move you
whether you like it

or no. He slipped and
fell right down on his little
fat newsflash, stretching

the canvas to shreds.
They’re us, that’s all. Bugs in drag
and I run away

together, evening
turned rain. Never recover
from all of the lights–

that’s discomposure,
brassy triumphal tunage
a cavern of false.

I’m looking into
the moistest superlative
availed us today–

it needs be squishy
by def housed in conventions
and double yellows.

Yes, I like to dive
’round in it like a porpoise,
shining divider

collection. Focus:
a regional brewpub chain’s
dirty taps exposed,

Toyota outrage
on the new Bluetooth headsets,
blood on seat covers.

Toss the garbage, kid–
roll the window back up, this
is it boys, it’s war.

Where’d you grab your voice?
It’s as if a myth rang up.
The rich man sprang in

the dirt carriageway,
tipping the cart and killing
the hack ‘ere this morn.

The trouble with lauds:
our wounds are foul and fester.
There is no healing.

There’s no shortening
of the commute, peons to
forthright dream cloture

and broadened embeds
of a gouged mess of supposed
entry requirements.

We’re talking class, sure,
and we’re all trying to eat
and it’s difficult,

but pause the game, bro,
and kill your uncle, you know,
the one with HD

teevees on all walls–
a rust-covered disused grill–
a trip to Vegas

every quarter now,
silent cousins and your aunt’s
downcast eyes, he laughs

and slurps and sings songs
regarding a liberty
he can’t really want

since his breath remains.
The Rousseauian koan reeks
more each year in bloom.

My lenses altered.
I think of how hilarious
the temporal fold

we inhabit here:
I’m injected with poison
that murdered four friends

in this year’s vapor,
villain in this mass crisis,
and I moan awake

to what? More bad news.
Under the bridges shaking
north and east of then

someone you know coughs.
Hold a mirror to the nose.
Its sense is a rake

or nails on the skull:
ancient tobacco–
unwashed and warm ass–

leaf pulp usual–
butane leak and melty plastic–
I carved some names in

the fresh concrete slab,
lifting my shirt to my face
and repulsed, let go

an abstract throttle
toward an acid bath sunset–
years from now collapse.

I hope bog bodies
continue to fascinate
in that so far place

just to sit around
in the evening’s conjecture
and squelch, collected

and with sunglasses.
Everyone’s now on these drugs,
factor in wood grain

then it reads okay–
oh my god we created
an approximate

cut-out of raggy
yet slick shambolicism,
a desperate cheap glue

that manages, sure,
but its persistence burbles
mostly harrowed down

a development
with some good tree’s common name
then Euro suffix

of sorts, like villa.
I have a garage plain stacked
with unused hard drives,

bulged tubs of paper,
dry shrubs, scythes, alum shovels,
webs fibrous, gooey.

So do you feel that
or do you hear what I hear,
the beating of lambs?

Wrong poem or lyric.
It’s like medical strobing
or unnerving asks:

What if we’re pen names?
What is the space between horns?
Press hand to temple–

plug one ear canal–
repeat for the other side–
cry out with what’s stored

in the lifelong glimpse
into strange windows at dusk–
the unbecoming

variegated shades
of ill yellow, an orange
corporate in its gnaw–

kick the shit outta
me, a mistake, too many
syllables. Wrong poem

or way on one way–
it’s a car, it’s a mountain,
I’m spewing on both

and forgetting
my purpose here: to envy
these fabulous blinds.

Extras

 

_______________

Paul Semel: The poems in What My Hair Says About You are all free verse. What is it about free verse that you like so much?

Laura Theobald: It’s the best kind of verse. Fight me.

PS: What My Hair Says About You comes with the dedication “for women.” What do you hope that I, as a man, will get out of reading it?

LS: I don’t care.

PS: Okay then. Now, aside from What My Hair Says About You, you have another poetry collection coming soon called Kokomo. First, when will that be out?

LS: Next year some time. Whenever we can manage to finish putting it together — just some edits and a cover, I guess.

PS: When were the poems in Kokomo written in relation to those of What My Hair Says About You?

LS: What My Hair Says About You was written from like 2009 to 2016; Kokomowas written between 2016 and 2018.

PS: And is there a theme to Kokomo?

LS: I’d love someone else to answer this question for me because it’s hard for me to say much besides that they just feel different. They’re about two different relationships. Kokomo is also set in New Orleans, where I was living, and kind of obliquely references the Florida Keys, where I grew up.

 

Laura Theobald @ Twitter
Audio: [I WAS BORN LONELY]
Book: What My Hair Says About You
5 POEMS
Buy KOKOMO

 

Laura Theobald KOKOMO
Disorder Press

‘Theobald’s poems unabashedly invite us to escape with her to the private island of her mind. On these invisible beaches, loneliness and desperation reign, and comfort is found in the companionship of a cat or in holding your favorite stuffed animal, in baking cakes and stuffing butterflies into jars. These poems don’t shy away from bodily functions or how difficult it is to be a poet if you don’t leave your house. This book is for anyone who has ever drowned in their own heartbreak and enjoyed it. This book is for anyone. This book is for no one. This book is for you.’ — Disorder Press

Excerpts

I love the word cunt

I said cunt at the bar

and my friend’s mom said

it was a fighting word where she was from

I said I love the word cunt

the mom looked pissed

I think she might have wanted to fight me

I said I call my friends cunts all the time

I didn’t mention

that my friends don’t actually like that

and that actually those friends don’t even talk to me anymore

miserable cunt

but I didn’t like this woman telling me what to do

I didn’t care if she was in remission

and down from Michigan for her daughter’s birthday

and that I was acting like a cunt

I said cunt is a beautiful word

cunt is a word for my pussy

and for when I’m acting like a cunt

she said that’s the worst thing you can say about a person

I said that is just your opinion

I could tell she thought I was trash

sometimes people will think you’re trash

when you’re trying to make a point

later she saw me playing pool and said

she wanted to get along

but that I shouldn’t say that word

I said I was sorry she didn’t like it but

I was going to keep saying it

she said I shouldn’t say it again

I said I would

she said she liked Blondie

I put a quarter in the jukebox and played Blondie

and she went away

*

for my first eight years

I didn’t know I was alive

then my grandma put some butterflies in a jar

and their wings stopped

and we placed their bodies behind glass

sometimes when I’m alive now

I can’t remember what I’ve said

but when I feel love

I feel like my heart could stop

*

maybe my Aunt will think

that poem is macabre

what I have to say about that word

is that it is true

I’m sorry Aunt Dolores

I’m not a Christian

I’m sorry all of my family

who fell out of love with me

*

why is my heart sad now

I got beamed into a sad book

for two days reading it

I had a terrible secret

and when I finished

no one could understand me

the world had changed

*

I dreamt about slapping your face again

when I woke up

you were rummaging through my purse for drugs

what are we gonna do about the cops

(let’s kill them)

there is nothing going on

on the internet

people feel the urge to say shitty things to me

and I supposedly love it

I saw you sitting

on the floor drunk

and I just thought

fight or fuck

Extras

VOLUME 2 P 172

What’s New in Poetry

The Best Thing Ever

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Give Paris a few more days of this and I suspect I’ll start to get the panic thing first hand although, this being France, I think pissed off is more likely. Our tastes just can’t seem to coincide lately, ha ha. Everyone, Mr. E riffs on gaslighting over on his legendary FaBlog which is located here. ** Sypha, I was already too old for the Muppets or too ironic or something. Yes, I think you should prepare yourself for probable work stoppage of a most unpleasant variety. ** alex rose, Alex, maestro! So good to see you in my brightly lit, isolated cave here. You guys are lucky to have work to go back to that quickly. I don’t think there’ll be work, or at least non-art making work, to return to here for ages yet. I’m not in the bickering phase yet. Oh, wait, I did get a little bickery for a minute or two last night. Oh, shit. No, I’m just trying to construct a world that has my apartment as its control center like everybody else here, I guess. Please come back and keep me company at a hat’s drop. Big love from me. ** Armando, Hi. Oh, I’m fine, I suppose, given the vexing circumstances. This morning Zac and I have an online/virtual Skype-like meeting with a grant committee to plead our new film’s case that we are not looking forward to at all. And my new Switch is supposed to arrive. And I need to fill out a form and go to the supermarket. That’s my day. No, I haven’t finished reading your thing, but I’ll let you know when I have. Great about the review! The post about your book is getting very strong traffic, so people out there are interested and discovering it. Take care and later. ** Bill, Hi. Thanks! I did see the online evidence of her chapbook and was similarly drawn in. After I get through the virtual grant pleading deal this morning and its related planning and stressing, Henke talking to your class is priority #1. Thank you for the bandcamp tip and link!!! How did you get through your current batch of slightly less stringent lockdown? ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben. That ‘SS’ thing looks to have been interesting. Enjoy your luck that you can actually venture out without a prove-ably essential reason for doing so. Thank you for the mix link! ** schlix, Hey, Uli. I keep thinking every country will be as locked up like France and Italy and Spain soon, but that might be doomsaying. Enjoy the relative freedom. Amazing how much a quick, meaningless little stroll can mean when it’s off limits. Facebook is more hell on earth every second. Yeah, stay positive, man. This will end, but fuck, it’s scary how long that might take. Or not? Love, me. ** Jeff J, Hi. Thanks about the post. This site’s need to swallow visible evidence of comments alive is just the most irritating mystery. I’ve never actually seen that doc on Kathy. I forgot that I was in it. How is it? I should watch it, obviously. It must be out there somewhere. Got your email and your proposed time is good, and I’ll write you back to confirm officially today. ** Misanthrope, The inevitable has arrived. Meaning you working from home. Glad you’re enjoying it. Enjoy being able to go outside whenever you want, and don’t take it for granted, whatever that involves. People are still acting civilised here, but I can’t imagine they will for too much longer. Keep on, yes. That’s my (only) plan too. ** Steve Erickson, Hi. Nice of everyone to be entertaining everybody for free right now, or attempting to a least. My blog was ahead of its time, ha ha. Sounds like a plan and good way to kill home time: revising your earlier script/work. I’m basically uninterested in Beyonce in general, so there’s not really a reason to watch that thing of hers, I suspect. Well, I spend a lot of time at home in the best of circumstances working, so the adjustment is not as hard for me as it is for more extroverted types. But I’m working. Gisele has a project for me to start on. Will start playing games on my Switch today. I think I’ll stay sane enough, although I do think I’m going to start sneakily breaking the rules and seeing friends somehow pretty quickly because that’s the hardest part. ** Thomas Moore, Hi, T! Thanks a lot, pal, and I agree. I think I had Steven Shearer in another related thematic post past or forthcoming, which is why I skipped him this time out. Can’t wait for your book. That Philip Best is such a fucking hero, no? What a great guy. ** Barkley, Hey there, Barkley! Very nice to see you! The first game that I’m starting with on my new Switch is ‘Luigi’s Mansion 3’. I thought that might be a good one to use to learn the new controller as I’ve never played on a Switch before. Then there’s catching up to do, like the last ‘Zelda’, etc. There’s this weird game where you play as a goose that looks kind of nuts, and I might score that? Recommendations? I could definitely use them? You doing good, I hope, I hope? ** Okay. Today I give you five poetry books that come with my strong recommendation. That’s the story. See you tomorrow.