Pumpkin

Round, orange, glowing orbs
staring,sitting,welcoming
from my waiting porch.

Flutter

Hi, all. This is one part of a three-part short.

One: See No Evil

By the end of the experiments, even the happiest of monkeys will be irrevocably damaged. Since so many will assume hunched over positions in their corners, I will ask you to be brave, Britches. In spite of your apprehension, I am going to have to persuade you to do this for your own good. At birth you will be poached, carried away from the jungle, placed in a laboratory setting at the University of Utah. Because Dr. Langfitt will not administer anesthesia during your vivisections, you will suffer. In addition to the physical pain, you will be confined to what will be called a vertical chamber apparatus that will deprive you of your senses and social contact. Now and then you will lose touch with external reality altogether. Outside of a worldly schema your dreams will be pure: Pay attention. I may reveal significant information regarding your progress.

With your orientation packet you should have received a picture of what you will look like after you are set free. Throughout the experience you will be a little stump-tailed Macaque monkey. You will have earned every one of those wrinkles, that disconcerted crinkle between your eyes, and those grey tufts of hair for eyebrows. Above and below your button eyes, you can see long black filaments sticking out from your eyelids. Despite your resemblance to Tammy Faye Baker, those are actually sutures that will be snipped open by your redeemers, once they have set you free. Let me just say that no one wants to be deprived of their vision. But we must be collaborators in this plan. Beyond shadow and doubt, if you ever need solace, you can call on me. Outside of solace, there’s really not a whole hell of a lot I can do, but know that I will be here for you, nevertheless. Considering that others will have to have their skulls smashed under hydraulic presses in brain damage studies meant to reorganize the sensory functioning of the cerebral cortex, I would definitely consider you one among the elect.

Underneath your blank evaluation sheet you will find the veterinarian reports based on what they will discover about you.

I examined a macaque monkey, aged approximately five months. I found an accumulation of smegma on the edematose and inflamed penis, indicating prolonged unsanitary disregard for the animal.

Notice in the picture how your penis will bend to the left, like the dorsal fin of an orca whale raised in captivity. Fascinating.

The activists found Britches alone in his cage with filthy, moisture-soaked dressing covering his eyes and a sonar device attached to his skull that emitted a high frequency shrieking sound every two or three minutes. He was clinging to a towel-covered prop that had two artificial nipples attached. It seems that this device was meant to represent a surrogate mother. The animal demonstrates photophobia. Skin dry. Body odor fetid. Veterinarian ophthalmologist Dr. Donald Blackburn also examined Britches after he was taken from the lab. Blackburn stated that the sutures used were grossly oversized. They had torn through lid tissue, resulting in multiple lacerations and scarring on both corneas. He said, “There is no possible justification for this sloppy, painful experiment.”

Subsequently, Britches, you will retire to a place near where you were born in Mexico, in a sanctuary with an elderly female macaque who will have already raised several orphans. Be brave, Britches. I believe in you.

I found my ROAST BEEF Poem

It's kinda long. Here it is.

I am consumed
Brought loosely to my knees

Men everywhere I turn,
All over the place,
Ubiquitously haunting the corners
Imbedded in the fat of my brain
In the wisps of my watery soul.

I am sick.

Pushed over the edge with jealousy
With possessiveness, madness.
For someone who cannot be mine.
Is mine
An affair
Of acid.

I could never have enough of you.
In ten million years.
More.

I am sick.

I desire your smell,
Your taste
Your body
If you were here
I could make you feel things you never felt before
Erotic exorbitance
Endless. Forever.

And you come back and say to me

No more. Never.
You have the pulse of a corpse
And the soul of a guillotine.

And I will take it like I have to.
But I don't promise not to punish you first.

Because I won't have another like you.

There isn't another.

I would surrender all to you
Like an overdone roast-
fall smoothly
gently
apart at your touch
my lips
my legs
Like butter.
Slippery and silent.

Turmoil

The flow of emotion

overwhelms the soul

as it struggles to rise above humanity.

It’s curious.

Silence festers in your boiling heart and blistering stomach.

You position your pawns in granite, only to abandon them in conceit.

Leave now.

Before the poisoned tips of your words pierce their innocuous mark.

Before you’re compelled to consider the obliteration you carelessly instigate.

Consider this.

Stay you the bearing of writhing fury allowing its noxious reign?

Unleash instead the demon in seclusion eradicating its depraved power?

In arrogance you challenge the Fates

as you choreograph

your victory dance.