Author: Horror Sleaze Trash

Daniel S. Irwin

Musta Been Another Spell

I don’t remember nuttin’.
But what the heck, doc.
Check me out.
I’m okay.  No damage.
Guess I fell off the bar stool.
Still, this ain’t right.
I should have a single room.
What’s up with this freaky
Fat ass grinning geek
Over in the corner?
Fool don’t even have a bed,
Just sits there on the floor.
Jesus, man, I think you’re sick.
How come you got no clothes?
Oh god, boy, don’t eat
Another turd.  That’s gross.
Quit climbing up the wall
And rolling across the ceiling.
I can’t see how you manage to
Stay up there.  Don’t drool, fool!
That’s nasty and it drips
Right down on me.  Don’t do
That damn horse’s cock dance.
Quit jerkin’ off and shootin’
A jizz wad across the room.
How do nuts like you get in here?
How the hell do I get out?
Look here, you whistle dick moron.
I swear by Einstein’s glowing balls,
When I get this straight jacket off,
I’m gonna kick your ass. 

Alan Catlin

many doors to hell; open, all of them open

all of them inviting you inside,
the air so cold it hits you in the chest
like a fist, a hammer alongside the head,
the room spinning like a “Strangers on
the Train” out of control merry-go-round,
all the overhead lights flashing, disorientation
complete until the guess-your-weight guy
hands you a card and points down to the pit
where the mud wrestlers are grappling in
the muck, the packed-in-tight crowd
placing bets, money clenched in their fists
as they cheer their champions on as if
the women were not human but fighting cocks
and this was a winner takes all contest to the death
and all the blood splattered on the walls was 
not forensic evidence of some horrible crime
you have witnessed and participated in,
hand still clutching the card given at admittance,
the one that says GOOD FOR ONE FREE RIDE
IN THE TUNNEL OF LOVE, a voyage in the dark,
the ride of a lifetime, a ferryman waiting inside,
holding a lantern, beckoning for you to follow. 

Ennis Rook Bashe

traumabonding dumpster clown love song II 

I think you grew up hungry. 
Corners sliced off a stick of gum precise as cocaine.
each fragment savored 
as your concave stomach growled
I think you grew up watchful.
rolling weight toe-through-heel on creaky floorboards 
diving for cover when the door unlatched
praying to no god- 
let me be gloriously lethal
and poison-frog bright
let me bask chuckling in a knife’s cold kiss 
my saunter a warning 
my smile a threat
you flinched and shivered. scrambled to obey. 
dreamed of ripping throats out with your first baby teeth. 
I think that’s why you laugh when someone lunges 
fists outstretched. 
you’ve reeled them in 
invisible strings sticky as a handprint on a child’s slapped cheek
even a clean hit whispers:
skin on skin

Andrew Vuono

Show Time

the parking lot lights
cut pale skin and
black jeans
outside hotels waiting
for a fix, a cure, a remedy
to that disease called regret
please stranger just fuck me
with no eyes, no love, no hope
it doesn’t matter
it means nothing
I’ve got a death wish
a sex drive
a self injury
so when your hands
are around my throat
your grip is never too tight
if I am still breathing

A. Lynn Blumer

Drifter

We talked on the edge 
of a cliff—somewhere 
you & I had lived for 
a long, long time.

Your eye held a knowing,
& although I wish I knew
what it was you said,
that look was the same as always.

Then you left the ledge.
I watched you seep into 
a black shallow creek bed,
beneath lay the reflection
of the moon—fragmented
from all the small & large rocks.

You came into my life 
at the perfect time & then 
we kept each other for a while.

Thirteen times around now.
Thirteen rotations watching 
each other grow & yet, 
saw what never changed.

I have to go – I have to go
retrieve your body from
the bottom of the cliff.
I have to make a sled
out of sticks & drag you 
somewhere I can dig—

& I’ll dig, through rock & root, 
multiple lifetimes of sediment,
under deep for a safe spot to 
finally put down your bones. 

Damian Rucci

Stay Up With Me

all the stores are closed
but we have enough smokes
to fill the ash trays with butts
to pace grooves into the wooden
floors, to peak out from
behind every shard of broken blinds
to dance sinister, our genitalia
angry and corrupted with every thrust
to rail crank until the end of the week
sitting idle and naked, the breeze
from the broken window alien
on our marble haunted bones

I know we haven’t eaten in
like three days & I know you’re
getting tired of the moonlight
& I know the director has
been beating on the door
for the last twelve hours
he must be mistaken, I guess
he thinks the party is finally over

but I don’t know how to stop
& you don’t leave the bed now
without it and our skeletons
only know how to sway in
chemical patterns; we have
forgotten how to greet
the sun-shined world
with anything that isn’t disdain

John Yohe

XHampsterwheel

tentacles appear
to enter a girl’s pussy
and come out her mouth

mommy wants to show
you her new boyfriend + teach
you how to please him

amateur women
uploading videos of
them masturbating

yr bully agrees
to stop if he can fuck yr
mom + make you watch

fifteen minutes of
women humiliating
themselves for pleasure

on a crowded bus
a japanese woman is
groped for an hour

a bratty legal-
aged teen gets punished by her
stepmom + likes it

the search term ‘gentle’
is only used w/the term
jack off instruction

a dominatrix
puts a man’s wife in a cage
+ fucks his ‘bitch ass’

a woman jerks off
w/a strapon that shoots ropes
of cum on her face

sex w/tentacles
does not seem to count as
bestiality

a circle of eight
young women masturbating
while filmed from above

jewish mom cracks jokes
anally masturbating
watching her own screen

office lesbians—
boss makes her secretary
sniff her nylonned feet

only french women
in french pornos smile during
sex even anal

russian woman plays
three characters at same time
all showing upskirt

training video
for bimboification
might cause seizures