We will be naked and bare
Ugly and beautiful
Out from under the covers
Out of control
And into the light

You will be seen
No where to hide
Be proud, Be seen…

Your clock is ticking.
So do it,
Or do me.
Too many are lost.
Go find yourself.
Or go **** yourself.


Original content by Bambi Cruz; [email protected]
Other content assembled from works by Ryan P. Kinney

there was a bathtub of fantasies, assumptions and intuitions, a kitchen table you might want to give a good scrubbing before setting down placemats, if-onlys, and always alone when the pup wakes me up

The phantasmal words never spoken,
for the table is empty,
the chairs never bare,
The house is hollow

I will miss the conversation
flowing smooth and easy
like blue notes through
the scratched brass trumpet
that birthed the cool


- Original content by Divine
Additional content assembled from works by Cee Williams and Mark Fleming

This is how we lived:
Dancing without invitation and warning
At a local food store grand opening.
It’s what we felt like.

We kept rhythm,
But I was falling behind.
I stopped quickly,
But I stumbled.

You’ll figure it
The same way you always do.
Trial and Error.


-Original content by Divine
Other content assembled from works by Lennart Lundh and Ryan Kinney

I used to play hide and seek
with the truth
Seven knocks up front
The hidden man from the back.
now I’m just waiting to die
like everyone else
I hear the bad voice
My nerves take another hit
she moved my waters
and I took her virginity.
Ours was a love of necessity.
So please plug my ears
I didn’t live like she wants
Here’s to vices and virtues,
To living without apologies or regrets,
I can’t say goodbye
But his knife beckons me to
And somewhere in Arizona
in a box she never opened
is the rest of him.



Original content by Mar Del Sol
[email protected]
Additional content assembled from works by J.M. Romig

my oblivion
Beautiful humanity
the heart on fire
The **** is personal identity
In the hell of dusty memories
He created the Wasteland

by Mar Del Sol
[email protected]

like a paper ball,
I am better than anyone I have ever known.
I think,
Therefore **** the Earth
Punish me.
The lump created my throat in front of the E-MAIL



by [email protected]
Assembled from works by Ryan P. Kinney, Predictive text, and Unknown

by Ryan P. Kinney

What’s the sound of a man breaking?
Is it that slow drip drip echo of depression?
The wind rushing through the hole in your chest

Is it silent like the nights of empty beds;
Sleeping abandoned and reaching for nothing?
Just hoping for anyone to drown out the cacophony of one

Is it the metal crunch, glass break of the head-on collision with the guardrail
After drinking your dinner alone again?
Is it the slow babbling brook trickle of blood and tears blinding, burning your eyes?
The wail of an overgrown, overdue infant
The squishy mush trampled beneath your feet

Is it the sound of rolling eyes?
The “not again”s
The “are you over it, yet”s
The “*******, you’ll never understand”
“Please, someone ******* understand.”
Is it the patronizing coos?
It is the sound of the words you can never say?
Never WILL say

Is it the sound of the wrong question?
“Are you ok?”
With the wrong answer every time
The ringing of the church bells
Some long dead “Here Comes the Bride” confessional
Melding with the hangman’s funeral dirge war cry of the apocalypse

Some lifeless musician strumming OUR song in the wrong key at the wrong time
out of tune
Upon your hermit’s rib-cave harpsicord
Played by DJ HeyZues
Creator of all
Knower of none
Who died for your spins

Is it the sound of the lighting sizzle ripping through your veins?
The dubstep beat beat tantric jungle crescendo
Filling that whole with ******
The sound of waves crashing upon the shore of the most ragged jagged shredded bitter pill you’ll ever have to force down past that acidic lump in your throat

Is it knuckle cracking bone on the cinder block wall behind your bathroom mirror?
Is it the chip-chop, swish-swish on the executioner’s-butcher’s block?
Is it the gasp at the ****** of your favorite book you never wanted to read again?

A broken man sounds like nothing
You have ever heard
Will ever hear

And
         Neither
                        Did
                               She