Influence?

With more and more people sending me feedback on my poems, I feel some pressure to "pre-screen" everything I post here. I CANNOT do that...it would take away from the purpose of this blog. Let me state my purpose here, in order for me not to stray from it:

"This blog is a direct reflection of my personal and poetic voices. It includes rants, stories, thoughts, quotes, rough drafts, and completed poetry pieces. The good, the bad, the ugly, the strange, the 'unfitting'- all belong in this blog. The Giant Bunny Rabbit is me, not some image I try to create of myself. What this blog conveys is beyond my decisions to include or not include any of my writing pieces- once I 'self-publish,' the fate of this writing is in the reader's hands."

With that said, here is some new work sans screening:

Written surrounded by people in a hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint...

blips

I.

awkward noise is worse than awkward silence i never thought that children could leave happily and still visit their parents twice a week that whack-a-mole can break of course

II.

sounds clog my cerebral pores but my coronary still waits

III.

pile of sitting intentions fucked attention to try stare at the end too much of myself enemy of the worst me wrists tend to squeeze fucked goodbye humiliation salutes

IV.

defined beauty aside i whimper cuz thats all ive got left

V.

stop fond el ing something that was never yours

VI.

smoke cigs like a maniac clowner but somehow my fingertips speak louder

obsessject

my hands are shaking but i know im not caffeinated open wounds are always hungry for a blank napkin goddamn obsessions you kill me

NO

youve kidnapped me and

r a p e d m e

with a reject childrens toy

drips

drips

a moment of silence for the cracking

.

.

.

how dare you deflower my iron wall my assurance my sanity i just finished building it yesterday you better pay in brownie points and careless whistles a pint of ice cream would suffice i guess

{it melts though}

WARNING: The following poem is extremely graphic in nature. I put this warning out there so I can shield people from my own depravity. Isn't a warning a judgment? A wall? A shelter? Read on...for me, my personal voice (a rare request). We hear and see and feel and what we don't want to hear and see and feel everyday. Here's one of those moments, but know that we are reading it together. Please read it with me...together. I'm tired of hearing and reading this all alone. I selfishly request that you enter my private horrors for 15 seconds...that's all, I promise.

Blip

.

.

.

Blip Fizzz

.

.

.

Ra

dio

ra

dio

.

.

.

Copy copy?

Coming again

.

.

.

I listen at my own expense

every

ten

minutes

The devil's typist

KEEP THE ORDER

{Your mother sucks cocks in Hell.

Help me!

Dying is the pain of puberty.

Drip death blood

Blood everyw-

Listen, you BASTARD!

I borrow lines from the

sacred ones.

Piss it out, bitch.

You know what's coming to ya.

Bathtub torture

Electrodes

Electrify

Spit blood

Feel porcelain go black

to the night

in a push-pull rack.}

I am in literally in tears from the pain of writing this. Those of you who know me know it's root.