Submission - Poetry
by James Sandoval of Kresge
Raped ecstasy exceeds the capacity of the digits
In my mind, and on loud paper. I nor we
Have ,so shape , our :sanity: or happilyness
We are:
We simp are. I and me and he. Happy.
Sad. Mad. All of everything and some of nothing
Just a being so lone with my selves; Mr. Sad, Mr. Mad, and Madam Confusion
Please come in for T. We expected guests: me, myself and he.
We feel-ly fine and all is goodly in the world
Where it doesn’t rainly so heavy anymore but
We are: are: is?: so raped
Andly can’t be undone
We remember moments but
Have no memories. A yester long gone into the shadows.
The T is fine, thank you kind gentleman. Thank you for disaccompanying me.
I was quite friend before you came
And now I am lone ,
With thoughts in your discompany. Of
Misfortunely T I taste on your lips and tongue
Madam Confusion?
Or is it the distaste of familiarity?
I take you as mine, mine and his Madam.
Your taste I amly far too familiar with but it I taste
And need more.
I am far too familiar to live without itly.
T like arsenic off you and your acquaintances; hermaphrodites.
The more of you there are, the more lone I feel and that
Is too, too, much to function.
Madam(s), you have raped me, and
Now I like it. Your acquaintance has kind been met
And you have taken what is the ancestral, ethereal fruit from
My treely: the pen from my paper: thought from expression.
Leave now madams and sirs! For your discompany
Is not appreciated anymore; your presence is too vulgar
For this gathering, I need not be raped anymore.
Kind leave what you have tried to take
You pillaged for soul in the depths of my fleshly
Apparatus puts structure from thought; existence and emotion.
Soul you have not found for in the T it is not it is
In I.
This T is missingly U: a U to complement I.
It’s too bitter without a U; my sugar, my nectar.
Madam Confusion left behind her hat and her genitals
The three kind sirs left their daughters here.
I, myself and he. We is still. We are.
The digits in my mind have bled the ecstasy
And heaven I feel knocking. Though I, and me, and he
Is still lone . Her tongue smelled like virginity, but reeked of satyriasis.
She left her eggs as well. And
A little bit of extra time she probably would never use
To simp plague me.
I l(h;a)o(:t);v:e(;e) her
I am still lone , as is
He and me. They and we
Simp are
-ly. Like the virgin sap of T I taste on Madam and yourself.
