Tim Barrus Blog
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You Still Have Your Neck Pillow On
the lonely
demon flicker
of your smile
whiskey boy
mountain
corn field
sweat clings
to you
sawdust bedded
good morning
little bitch
your life
coiled back
into the
past when
you were
hungry
and always
the young
grass bent
and the spring
grew ripe
https://medium.com/@timotheebarrus/i-opened-my-eyes-80939561c66a
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Name Me One Person
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name me one person
who could catch up
to him allowing the
thin rays of autumn’s
sun, he can completely
vanish and has slept
late escorted into a
dark pilgrimage of
four years times ten
and all the tin cups
to it, appalachia boy
rags and patches
bony shoulders
socks…
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Violence Against Sex Workers
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Kirk is quite typical for a seventeen-year-old except for one thing. He does sex work to survive.
One in five police reports of sexual assault from an urban, U.S. emergency room were filed by sex workers. Sex workers were younger, poorer and suffered a greater number of injuries than other…
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Vous l’avez fait
J’accuse
Vous l’avez fait
Tu m’as tué
Avec ton amour
Avec ta bite
Avec votre
Langue
Dans mon
Trou
Vous avez rempli
Moi avec
Ton sperme
Que je
Merde
Dans votre
Bouche
Vous l’avez fait
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woodstock
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some dark wood of terror/ my tongue inside your bitter hole ravenous and wasted beyond perilous attrition/ no one had been left alive/ we could roar the bike past all the parked cars lined up at the side of the road with their little radios and their little dancing on…
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forty years of inflammation
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avascular necrosis was just the beginning/ i am now a walking, talking spare parts car lot/ vavavoom/ i could barely walk this week, and ended up in another emergency room again and again/ besides the usual, this time, there was the heart/ they will stick probes into my heart and…
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It’s just business
every sunday morning
here in appalachiaville
they take a head count
to see who’s in church
and who’s not
in fucking church
religion in america
and what is so intricate
so entangling as death
you numberless infinities
your mouths are filled
with dust the absurd
in the depth of winter…
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Nothing’s Wrong on Mars
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MISHA, GO TO BED
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Misha doesn’t sleep. We have that in common.
I try my best to get stuff done when the house is quiet. Sleep for boys who have been raped and sexually exploited is a big bag of worms. Medical professionals in Public Health (which should be renamed Public Bullshit) never ask…
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we were intent on burning time into ashes
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will i be arrested if i say i hate the fucking cops/ fuck cops/ that whole year, we were intent on burning time/ everything was ashes, the book of ashes, the culture cops are set to save/ all of it ashes, cops would like to bust the dead because the…