she could barely
muster a whisper
her love was never
strong enough to
illicit the kind of
passion you read
about in slutty
romance novels
i always blamed
myself
in her final breaths,
she forgave me
i asked for what
everything
i chuckled
i guess that covers
most of it
she’s the last dream
i ever want to have
the answers to whatever
resembles prayer anymore
the woman with her neon
soul breaking down this
wall that’s been built
for years now
i doubt i ever get
to taste her
walk hand in hand on
some tropical beach
as the sun sets on the
latest tragedy
driving to work
i saw a cesspool truck
hauling those
big thick concrete rings
& then a hearse
like a sleek silver shark
not far behind
both reminding me
this planet’s just
a mud pinata filled
w/ shit & corpses
Science is a thicc-ass Daddy
Shove your findings published
in peer-reviewed journals
deep down my throat
I’m wearing tight tight yoga pants
and I’ve just wasted $100
on Doterra lavender oil
instead of vaccinating
my kids, Daddy
I’m a bad bad girl
Punish me
Lecture my ass
on the importance of
making medical decisions
based on empirical evidence
Beat the woo out of me,
Science Daddy,
so I no longer spread
harmful misinformation
just my legs
#daddygoals
she fakes orgasms
with herself
just to get it
over with,
hopes sleep
will come,
dreamlessly.
she misses
nicotine patches,
and glorious
nightmares,
wakes
in darkness,
reaches
for the magic,
cums
like a robot.
the sun
does push-ups,
fantasy runs laps,
moon exploded,
hours knock
on windows,
she sleeps
in daylight,
night waits.
One of the local crazies
was walking toward us
shouting non-sensical bullshit
and the ladies in front of her
looked nervous.
As I walked by, we made
eye contact and she screamed:
“and you, you and your dog
raped me last night,
you fucked me!”
I chuckled and then I thought about
how she was probably normal once,
how she was somebody’s beautiful
little girl once; but that, that was a
long time ago.
Now she was out to lunch,
now she had a creative imagination.
I was jealous of it.
I was in awe.
I hope we showed her a good time.
Am I really a bitch
even though I call
myself a man?
While bending over
the stall and taking it
in the can
Tell me this!
Shout it in my ear
Hearing you say it
while pounding
my rear
It’s just an experiment
I’m really a guy
But when you slip
your dick in me
Baby, I fly!
Football fantasies
Masculine men fight
But extra large dildos
Oh wow, they own
my night
Being called a faggot
yeah that’s my greatest
Fear
But if you whisper
sweet nothings
I won’t shed a
Tear
A plastic pounding
my insides do adore
Such a feminine touch
but my ass desires
So much
more
You’re my master
I promise not
to flinch
Now slip it in my ass
and call me
your bitch
horror, adj.
inspiring or creating loathing, aversion, etc.
sleaze, adj.
contemptibly low, mean, or disreputable
trash, n.
literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality
Welcome to HSTQ: Winter 2020, the curated collection from Horror, Sleaze and Trash!
Featuring poetry by Thumper Devotchka, Anthony Dirk Ray, Judge Santiago Burdon, David Boski, Gwil James Thomas, Stacey Z Lawrence, Robert Beveridge, David Estringel, Mitch Green, Maté Jarai, Jane-Rebecca Cannarella, Benjamin Blake, Puma Perl, Jack Henry, James Diaz, Josef Desade, John Grey, Bogdan Dragos, Arthur Graham, and Mendes Biondo.
Kindly PayPal 5 USD to arthur.graham.pub@gmail.com for print copies,
or download the FREE ebook instead!
whispers in
the darkness
her neon soul
resting on your
endless void
of fear
too old to fall
in love but not
quite dead
you’ve learned
that hope is some
ancient feeling
from the fantasy
novels of your
youth
but she looks
in your eyes
and
you swear
angels are
starting up
the band
First time that I met her
I never had a suspicion
when I loved her
She always made me feel so fine
but she’d always leave me wanting more
Then I’d find myself begging
back at her door
I’m not dancing with that bitch anymore
Every time I saw my face in the mirror
making love to those little white lines
I never thought I was losing control
She did my thinking for me
but baby now I know
I’m not dancing with that bitch anymore
There was nothing pure
in her driven snow
Just a whiter shade of darkness
where I betrayed my shadow
She choreographed
every move I made
I’d perform for her my spastic ballet
I’m not dancing with that bitch anymore
I was ready to sell my soul for her
if I could just find me a buyer
I spent my friends for the lies she told
I just could not deny her
She had me under her thumb
My legs could move
but I couldn’t run
I’m not dancing with that bitch anymore.
Horror Sleaze Trash 