justasksomebody

growing up is giving up.

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Untitled by justasksomebody, literature

Jorogumo by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

Jorogumo

the smiling knife of a poisonous woman sings a song that gnaws on my arteries and cauterizes each fresh wound dealt (not to heal, but to seal up the toxin in its warm red bed). the pull of the biding spider rides high on the crest of my meshed nerves, an electric burn that spurs as it spurns (not a snare, but a labyrinth lair that draws my feet as it eats them). a mind and body forcibly sewn into one. this fused knot waits, rapt, wrapped in a tangle of fates and waiting, pickling in the pantry of a ravenous starver who carves me alive while wide eyed and paralyzed (not in malice, but by a blind and

Untitled by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

Untitled

here, me, poised to strike from a long and artless dark arm in the lawless lunatic fringe, thumping my plexus drum with my other dumb limb, crying song from my dying bible - there was a time i'd fight for anything, a cause or callus or culling. to play the scythe and see minor stars across the gamut of laced fingers tied behind a lover's wide iris or work the poppet in a mad, ribboned dance that none but i could try to tie a tag to. my stony noise has never held or shown a will-o'ed road over my own clutch on method, apertures spanned in fevered metric; could be it always seemed to me we find out why by learning how. now, i think my body stan

entitlement. by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

entitlement.

there is a black well within a blue well. the blue well is a hole in the sea floor where the weight of the sea is light enough to allow for blue to exist at its lowest point; the black well is a hole in the blue well. there are white eyes in the back well that do not blink, have no pupils, and they tremble and shift quickly in all directions, only evidenced by how they catch and reflect the limited light that enters the black well from the blue well from the floor of the sea. the white eyes watch without blinking the boundary where black meets blue to blend in a bruise, a gradient ring at the perimeter of cavity within cavity. the sea that

postmodern koan by justasksomebody, literature

selective yellow by justasksomebody, literature

up to back down by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

up to back down

i can't think about each footfall carrying all my bones and ballast past the last beautiful thing that sings still in my rotten heart meat, the ghost of a beautiful no - the moonstruck volts i cursed in throes like lightning are gone along with possible sums and productions, the incalculable woes of their neon deathsquads' bosom fears gone aloft like fog on a dawn moor come sun to the naked bog, stirless teeming pools where sodden logs do nothing in mud but float and nothing, nothing moves this tangle of scum and black roots, life-wet and buzzing as its bugs come to.

give a shit by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

give a shit

the sun plunged bloody at the dead west and the smell of storm hung like a muddy bell, crisp with alluvium, sodden but sharp – some people love like love is a matter of how many fights you can have and still want more, some love like love means just be near, and some don't. the Wind picked up and the smell of storm died from the east while flat rain fell straight as dead weight for about five seconds i swear nothing but water falling in sheets for five thousand milliseconds, sheer cataract black cloud backlash for five million microseconds, five billion downpour flash flood nanoseconds, and it went on like this forever,

upsy daisy by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

upsy daisy

so he dreams of local jazz dives and the dark girl changed, of revolutions, then emerging cool from his cannibal sleep our theosophist wakes naked: - clothes imprison our skin, which is a mystery, and, lovely, loves us so – so we've heard. the birds of the bough raise their chorus, the vegetables extend their yawning candor at the watering can he proffers from his proffered hand: - spring, my children, from the caging &

generation by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

generation

over the temporal ropes that tether the skull to the masthead squats this blitzed howl of a dodo instant, platitudes of whooping rape and turns in the infirmary, collections and recollections, the black fragments of nights spent forgetting anything in the wasp heat of a fetal july: the bark, the wet rattle, the teeth of the comb plumbing the televised hells of bridal bridles chomped at the bit, the chemical necessity of failure and food and the vase of the lung, of hatching a blastocyst pandora's folly, genes to the winding wind and wind to the wing of a dodo – cut out the baby from its dead mess of mother, and slap it

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Untitled by justasksomebody, literature

Jorogumo by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

Jorogumo

matrices by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

matrices

don't bet on forever. don't bet on mercy, want sharks; sharks want blood in the water - dull knives hurt worst. don't fidget. don't ask, don't hate and don't love me, don't be dumb. don't tell me what to do, don't wait up, don't be busy, don't go and don't stay but know i don't care one way or the other - doesn't my weight make your hung heart sink? don't smoke. don't drink. don't say i didn't warn you and don't give up on me, don't care and don't try, don't pry and don't you look at me like that, hunter lazier.

Notes on Birdkeeping by justasksomebody, literature

Friction and Winter by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

Friction and Winter

some dumb out-of-towner always hits that black ice patch like they've never seen it, led into fishtail, into snowy red rover; where's your friction, motor owner, don't you know that it is heat and push points, pivots and resistance that will plot a course, a ground heel and placed weight that make spring? (you have to press against a thing to move and that thing will need to press against you)

Choosing Fruit, Asleep by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

Choosing Fruit, Asleep

it's like a starfruit, but it isn't one; even waking never more than some young ghost i felt instead of feeling out by hand, even cleanly reaped from mind and milled ino a dream i am alone and yet with you, again, it isn't starfruit. pinned beneath your snaring legs and tangled in the rose smoke rising i knew that this was and is the scene that breeds the dream of shopping for our phantom fruit, the dream preceding what had sown it, and why not: like passion, like pomegranate i swear to god it's fleshy seeds are fat and sweet and trapped in pulp that's fine to eat, the perfect rind will split like it was meant to twist inside

An Athiest's Prayer by justasksomebody, literature

From Autumn to After by justasksomebody, literature

Literature

From Autumn to After

"oh." you said, and sighed, and closed your eyes when you had heard that you had my respect (and so i left with that intended gift, gimped and limping after fences, past gas stations shelling fuels, predawn locksmiths, rib joints and pawn shops - how many glocks or pocket watches worths in dollars for all of the esteem for you in me? - south and east, the minute : the second, the minute : the degree; even ten paces from home i was nearer to returning than i ever was to wanting to leave) ...i am too weak to carry you, sleeping, anywhere at all but strong enough to know and to try despite the fall

Throes by justasksomebody, literature

Break Even by justasksomebody, literature

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About justasksomebody

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Dec 22
United States
Deviant for 16 years

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justasksomebody

Apr 2, 2016

no skin

0 min read

everything about this site is a blood soaked nightmare. do you think they give a shit about your art? shit, if you're lucky, you might win a bit part in a thankless programming role for an upcoming kojima production!, but probably ll just steal your work and tell you you're a jerk for giving all your stuff to a numbers production that will fuck you twice: once for saying your art is good, and theirs, and twice for saying oh that's nice. you think careers get made here? sure they do, it's people that get paid here.  everyone that submits anything to this site is voluntarily sacrificing their life to subscribe to a meaningless llama or what

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justasksomebody

Nov 15, 2012

machines of man

0 min read

there is no hope.  the most beautiful abstract values humans have created and fostered are predominantly used to justify atrocity; love and wonder and forgiveness are tools to condone or forget the unspeakable ways we treat each other.  we expect to be treated like garbage, and are disappointed when we aren't because it means that we were wrong, and we prefer to be right - so we act horribly to be treated horribly in order to satisfy our own self-destructive prophecies, we cultivate guilt to verify that we deserve to be punished.  we fantasize about apocalypse, nuclear holocaust and ravenous dead that walk the earth, because in our cor

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justasksomebody

Sep 23, 2011

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0 min read

simon says this is probably the best thing ever: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zn7-fVtT16k&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3w2MTXBebg&feature=related , shakespeare and hawking kill it so bad it's a multiple homicide, b****** casey and jamie and i won the it's always sunny in philly bar quiz at o'neill's this week, pretty epic stuff: inform your friends that we're an x-factor to be reckoned with or OH THEY WON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT IT!!!