CheapGrotesqueries

Benny cradled the poker chip in his palm, and his fingers toyed with the oversized piece of platinum. He held it up in the waning moonlight of the Mojave desert through his hotel room window, and he had a sudden thought—a sudden pang of conscience. "The game was rigged from the start." Yeah, why didn't you just up-chuck your guts and tell that poor bastard everything? 'Ya shot him in the head, so why not confess your sins upon a desert corpse? He turned away from the window and loosened his tie with his free hand, tugging it from around his neck and let it drop to the floor. Next off was his checkered coat—and once he had shuck

There once was a beautiful little girl with a white dress sewn from the threads of innocence. Everyone loved her and her quiet ways; loved her angelic face that glowed as if the sun had been captured within her skin and her eyes were like discs of blue opal. She was always happy and never fussed about anything, and wanted to grow up into a lovely woman that would have a wonderful husband and a picket-fenced house with two beautiful children. But then she grew up. Her limbs grew long and awkward, and everyone was annoyed by her attitude and screaming about all of the anguish that was only in her head. Her face became blemished, like the crate

The day I realized Cupid is irresponsible was the day he had been using me for target practice and I had looked upon you, barely recognizing you as my dear friend because you changed your skin overnight and became someone that I did not know, but someone that I treasured so dearly—and I had myself convinced that my complete destruction was imminent if you had ever gone away. On that day I was just a girl who knew the phrase ‘your body is a temple’ at a younger age than I should have because my temple was a victim of poor genetic blueprints and lazy construction work, and I knew my temple was not one that I should be proud of

I overdose on applause and catcalls; drown a nose-full of glitter with a glass of vodka redbull. Streaming through me are ill desires that corrode my very base, like capsuled happiness dissolved and strung through my veins while I giddily indulge a hidden fetish of blinding lights that suffocate my vision and tectonic bass drops of music that rattle my skeleton and knock my lungs together right into the throws of collapsing to the floor in an unconscious ecstasy. The only warmth I'll get tonight is a couple dozen strangers stamping me in their kicks and whore heels as if I were an attractive (but positively filthy) doormat as only one or two

Authentic beauty and nature falsified by knife and needle to tear apart, then sew together, the few pieces of several shattered beings. Birthed from an ignorant man of science did he see his fruit to be horrid, and a sin amongst Nature's perfect men that God would certainly strike him for. But is it the creature upon the table with broken face and deformed body-- with childish eyes and uneducated tongue-- that is to be condemned as a monster? Or is it the ignorant man of science, that wielded the knife and needle in creation of his sinful fruit, who holds such a beastly soul that is to be condemned as a saintly scholar? Nay, for the scholar i

I close my eyes… The darkness is so inviting. As cliché as it is, with the thousands of others that have said it and believed it, death does calm me. Finally seeing the finish line makes me feel like it’s even easier to just—… Give in. All the anxiety I feel is finally leaving me, and I feel nothing but pure comfort drown me in the oncoming tide of unconsciousness in wave after hazy wave. I’m being pulled under… How did I once think that this was a vast ocean? How did I not see that this was only a shallow outlet that divulged in whatever carried into it, and drew back out all the things that pain

He was gone for no more than a minute before I curled up into myself, my head bowing down into my shaking hands and I could hear my heart thrumming between my ears erratically. I closed my eyes, envisioning his face as my fingers gently brushed over my twitching eyelids and my breathing came in shallow exhales of air that barely reached my lungs before it was forced back up. "We have found that the tumor's grown to an alarming size--and it's not benign, as we had originally thought it to be." I couldn't remember if I had asked him to leave me to my thoughts, or if he had exited on his own out of the good nature that came after delivering ne

Things haven't been the same. Not since the accident, and then the move. Sometimes I lie in bed, half-awake (or maybe even half-dead, depending on how you look at it), and wish that things could be the same, like they were before—I lie in bed and wish that I had some ethereal power that would allow me to turn back the bad things, and maybe trade them in for better things… Yeah, I'd like to trade in all the bad things to get back the good things that I miss. I stare at my son across the small foldout dining table (five bucks at the Camping Emporium, our deeply loved wooden family dining table had been clumsily dropped by two moving