#1
Slight writer's block. Confident in the substance but not the execution. Oh well.


Squirrel Pie


Orion loosened his belt
Said he'd give me something to cry about
From a tobacco-stained mouth
Launching chew into the spittoon
Words that reek and wreak havoc
And me in my brother's handed-down shirt
Stretched to hell like it just gave birth
Waiting for scars, I counted lucky stars

"I'll put you in a crooked home
With broken surveillance
And nurses, assailants
I hope that you live long
With no visitors
But rotations of hearses"

Each night, squirrel pie
Ruined from rounds of the old .22
That his father had passed down to
Him in years long past to cover his ass
When Grandma spoke back
But he later beat her to death
Over some stolen cigarettes
A legacy of atrocities

Appalachian ennui
Jobs dried up in the coal mines
City folk buying up property lines
"Urban kids don't know how to live"
The nightly bourbon sermon
Before he'd teach us how to fight
"Not raising faggots who don't live right"
And the leather'd creak as we shrieked

Squirrel pie
The only game he could find
A mighty man
A sickly mouse's countenance

Orion tightened his belt
And shuffled off the top shelf
Nurses crowded the halls
Gorging in the spectacle
And when my phone rang
My laughter, well, it hanged
He was left an unclaimed body
A forgotten patient in the lobby
Past closing time
So long past closing time
I am a fake mountain.
Last edited by DanTheHobbit at Jun 27, 2017,