Concerning Virginity

Traumatic insemination: the term used in order to describe the way in which bedbugs copulate. The male has a hypodermic penis, and he stabs the female in the stomach with it in order to impregnate her. The female bedbug is in possession of her own genitals, however, the males ignore them completely and only copulate with the female when it is necessary to reproduce. This, of course, is a natural, normal way of baby-making for bedbugs. Quite unlike humans, who use methods of baby-making (otherwise known as ‘fucking’) in order to gain pleasure or to relieve boredom. A silly, ridiculous practice that is risky and dangerous. Especially for young human couples who aren’t prepared to handle the tiresome responsibilities that come with the job of parenting. The point I am trying to make here, is that the human race sucks. Seriously! We suck. We pollute the earth with our fancy cars and our need for beef, we overpopulate the room because we can’t stop fucking the shit out of each other, we decide that narcotics are a wonderful thing to try, Will Ferrell never gave us enough cowbell, and to top it all off, we can’t keep our nose out of other people’s business. We suck harder than a hooker in a wind tunnel. That is why I alone must kill them all. Because I am the alpha-human. Well, that’s not exactly true; there are other reasons why I should kill them all. I mean, I have a PhD, and from what I’ve gathered from my acute observations of the fuckery of the human race, they’re exceptionally selfish fucks. You see it all the time when you’re out and about. The people dressed in their high-class rags, on the side of the road asking for your money. LIKE HELL I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU MY HARD-EARNED UNEMPLOYMENT CHECK FOR FREE. I don’t give just ANYONE free money. That’s why I don’t pay my bills. Because in my opinion, those people did nothing to earn my money. You wanna earn my money? Mow my lawn. If the IRS came and mowed my lawn, washed the windows, and did the dishes, I’d consider paying my taxes. The higher powers saw my intellectual advantage, and did something that I still haven’t been able to fathom to this day. It all began for me the night God came to me in my sleep. “James,” God began, shaking me out of my sleep state with his powerful Morgan Freeman voice, “this is God.” “Yes God?” I respond sheepishly, feeling the walls shake as he continues to talk to me. “I need you to kill them all,” God began, and I could feel the power in his words as he continued to speak, “these fools are destroying my creation! I created this earth, medamnit! The humans take everything for granted! Cutting down my precious trees, killing my precious cows, and above all they kill each other. It wasn’t easy creating this whole thing in seven days, you know. I had a quota to fill here. And with Satan bugging me and all, I had to do things quick! Sure I fucked up here and there, you don’ t have to tell me. The snakes complain enough over the fact that I forgot their legs, that’s why they keep fucking shit up in literature, they’re pissed off!” God paused for a moment and gathered his thoughts, realizing that he was getting a bit off-topic, “anyway, the point is, I need you to kill them all.” “How?” I asked feeling a bit overwhelmed that I’ve been charged by God himself to kill every last person who lives on this planet. “I don’t care about how you do it! All I care about is that you do it!” God shouted, “good day, swine,” he said as he left. I stared at my popcorn-ceiling for a while after my impromptu meeting with the big ‘G’ contemplating the overwhelming task I had in front of me. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to buy that many bullets, and even if I were, I only have about seven dollars in my bank account. You’d think that God would hand me some money to work with, but no he’s God. He has to be all mythical and shit. He couldn’t simply forgive everyone for their sins; he had to alter physics and impregnate a virgin, and then kill his son off to save everyone. He was the first case of domestic violence that much is certain. I thought more about how I would do this. Poison was way too expensive and explosives were way too complicated. But then I thought about cereal killers. They kill thousands of people in the world and get away with it! I thought about Adolf Hitler. Now that was a smart man. He got an entire country to believe that it was a pretty chill thing to go kill off all the Jews, Gays, and Blacks. And since I am the smartest person in the world (don’t deny it, God came and talked to me, I MUST be important), I think I could pull off this cereal killer thing. The only problem is that I have no idea how to accomplish the task of becoming a cereal killer. I thought about Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Gary Ridgeway… all of them had something in common, they had a target—they were killing adults. Staying true to my beliefs, and to God’s wishes, I knew in my heart that it was not in the mind of the adult that I should be worried about. Adults are fucking stupid, and they’re doomed. Killing all the adults would be like suffocating a blowfish. And then I thought about children. They’re sweet, innocent, and very easily swayed by the idiots. They’re weak. Killing a child would be like shooting someone who is likely to die, who is currently in pain and/or suffering. I knew what I had to do next. I had to make a trip to Wal-Mart. I quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bus stop. I waited and waited and waited. And while I waited, I started to sing a song: “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts….” I echoed through the empty street. Finally, after what seemed like thirty choruses, the bus appeared. I got on and traveled to the land of Wal-Mart, knowing full well that this would be a true test of my ability to fulfill God’s request. One doesn’t simply walk into Wal-Mart, that’s for certain. The sales there are incredible and it’s hard not to get distracted when you enter Wal-Mart with a task. I entered the store and an eighty year-old woman greets me. But I know what’s she’s really doing here. That old bitch is lulling me into a false sense of security using her age as the main weapon. Making me think that she’s gonna go home and bake me cookies or some shit. And she’d bring them to you on a pink flower plate and they’ll look warm and delicious. The chocolate chips glistening and mixing with the baked dough. But then you take a bite and find that the chocolate was heated to the temperature of volcano, and you just burned your tongue. I hate that, and that old hag knows it.“Welcome to Wal-” the lady began, “FUCK OFF I DON’T WANT YOUR VOLCANIC COOKIES” I shouted at her as I ran into the store. I step in, and thousands of sales begin to violently rape my eyes and my attention span. I sigh, “how on earth will I find it?!” I looked around, afraid to penetrate any further into the store. Fear drove me to the nearest shelf, and I grabbed twenty boxes of Lucky Charms off of the shelf. I threw them into the dark blue shopping cart, and ran out of the store—without paying—straight toward some stranger’s car. I broke the window of the big white child-molester van and opened the car door, making record-breaking time with the task of hotwiring. Then I quickly tossed all the cereal into the backseat. “Cereal Killer lifestyle, here I come!” I shouted as I threw the car in drive, hitting several pedestrians as I drove off. I was reflecting on my actions while their bones crushed beneath my tires. I had done so many good things today, being a cereal killer came easy to me. “Maybe, when this is all over and done with and everyone is dead, I’ll write a book on how to be a cereal killer. It’ll become a bestseller and I’ll be rich!” I said to myself. While I was on the road, a police officer randomly pulled me over. I watched him step out of the car with a giant black thing in his hand. I hoped it was a present. In fact, I just knew it had to be a present specifically for me, because he was pointing it straight at me. “What seems to be the problem here?” I asked. “STEP OU T OF THE VEHICLE AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” he shouted back at me. Now, I found this highly offensive. I’ve seen CSI and so I know that when a man asks you to step out of your vehicle, he intends to butt-rape you. And being butt-raped was not something on my list of things to do for the day. So, instead of tending to his freak commands, I hit the gas pedal and drove. You see, I was on a mission, a mission from God. And nothing, not even butt-rape could stop me now. As I was driving, I saw a park filled with children…no, not just children—opportunity! I was going to impress God…damnit! I parked the car and grabbed a box of cereal and found the closest child. “Hello!” I said to a little blonde girl in a bright green dress. “I’m not ahwowed to talk to strangurs” she said, turning away from me. “It’s okay, little girl,” I began, “my name is James. Now you know my name, does that make me a stranger?” “No,” she responded reluctantly, “my name is Mary,” she said. I smiled and pulled the box of cereal out from behind my back, “do you like Lucky Charms?” I asked. The girl’s eyes widened with excitement, “YES I DO!” she shouted. I opened the box and grabbed a handful, “that’s great, Mary,” I said before I took her firmly by the shoulder and shoved the cereal down her tiny throat. I could hear the grinding sound of desperate gasps for air and asphyxiation. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked terrified. Soon, after several minutes of struggling, her body became very still, and her face read no expression. She was dead. An evil smile grew on my face, and I knew that I had done God a solid. I released the child, raised my hands into the air, and shouted, “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, HEAVENLY FATHER? I HAVE TAKEN YOU’RE ADVICE. AND THE WORLD SHALL KNOW ME, AS THE CEREAL KILLER!!!!” A divine feeling fell over me, and I felt like a greater human. This was the ultimate high. And then a group of police surrounded me, including the man who tried to rape me earlier. This startled me a bit. I knew I could fight off one man, but there were like, twenty surrounding me. I was not in the mood to be gang-raped. I noticed in their hand they were holding presents for me. This excited me a little bit, because I love presents. And then, the men gave me my presents. I felt the hot present thrust itself into my stomach. And then everything went white. Is this how a female bedbug feels when she loses her virginity?

Roygbiv

The rise and run of Love’s rapid fire

propels me forward in an icy red spiral.

Streams of red, yellow, and white.

The colors copulate with one another,

until you can no longer guess their shade.

The colors spin like mermaids in heat

they grab me by the hand-hand to my lips

commanding me no to speak a word.

Speaking here is for the weak-willed man and

only here, are you allowed to feel

to feel every flame as it splashes over you

branding your skin with polka-dotted tones

painting your skin crimson and black.

The embers-like footsteps in wet sand

semi-permanent, until life decides to forget

forget the regret of a tide washed in.

Each ember is a lesson to learn, a life

to live, a story to tell, a love to love,

love leaving brandings along your watery skin

like and embarrassed tattoo yearning

just yearning to be covered by a Siren’s Tale.

X

The Nobility will turn to nothing

Into the night of this Holy Land

Their tyranny will turn into something

The bells upon the Holy gathering

Shaken by the Holy white hand

The Nobility will turn to nothing

The misty air surrounds my dream

The misery is high on demand

Their tyranny will turn into something

The flames of the fire cause my scream

The louder I scream the faster they fan

The Nobility will turn to nothing

What is virtue but an act on everything?

My virtue was stolen and

Their tyranny will turn into something

A harmonious Holy punishment to sing

Of a Holy History burned among the sand

The nobility will turn to nothing

Their Tyranny will turn into something