anywhere but here

i wandered the impossible earth
locked myself in uncharted rooms
i never knew where i ought to be
lost my thoughts to the memories of old trees
somewhere surely winter must end
somewhere surely there’s a little less rain

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

the oblivion amnesty

as the eviscerated fish fries in its milt
so too i self-immolate in feculent guilt
my thoughts are sharper than a castrating knife
looking to cradle song to pity my lawless life

hush, little baby, don’t say a word
you’ll die soon enough, and shame ungird
just look at yourself one last time
as you flop and gasp before your last crime

as the desiccated slug becomes shriveled and pruned
so too i rub salt into this black pudding wound
my memories are more bitter than jesuit’s bark
looking to burial song to absolve myself in the dark

cry, little baby, let everyone hear
you’ll rot soon enough, in soil and fear
just look at yourself one last time
as you drop and rasp after your last crime

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Gendered Fight

“You misunderstand.” The blue butterfly took another sip of nectar. “You’re clearly out of the loop!”

“Sure, ‘mansplain’ it to me then.” The butch lesbian stag beetle rolled her eyes. “You cis male types always know better.”

“Your so-called ‘self-sufficiency’ is just for lack of a real man in your life.” The blue butterfly hiccupped, wiggling his antennae in a faintly imposing manner. Nectar dripped onto the bar counter.

Later that day, the butch lesbian stag beetle’s friends asked about the blue butterfly lying beneath the bar counter in a pool of vomit.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s called ‘self-sufficiency’. Apparently.”

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020