P r e t ❤ n t i o u s i s B l i s s
from "Psychic Privates"
On a clear blue day, no sky,
the French invented cellulite.
I want you to be my male nutcracker.
What happens in Vegas stays on your dick.
Look your beast deep in the fucker.
Hiss and hearse.
Our hearts in a twist.
They’re called Care Bears cuz they give a shit.
The still life eats the buck wild.
She had a damn fine behind before I sprayed that Raid.
Oh, he tossed your salad, too?
I do so love to tango with your castle bravo.
Pennies on the dollface.
Your cross to bear, your load to blow.
So sun away, sun away
to someone else’s leaky insatiable,
where I can only oh so golden.
Kill yourself for food.
The human condition is hilarious.
We’re all a bunch of assholes who fart and fear god.
Mostly cloudy with a chance of motherfucker.
At least I’ve got my pick of the runt.
Kim Vodicka: Poet. Nihilist. Spokesbitch of a Degeneration. Beavis in Scorpio. Moon in Roseanne. Penis in Uranus. Venus in ASS GLAM! She is the author of two poetry collections: "Aesthesia Balderdash" (Trembling Pillow Press, 2012) and "Psychic Privates" (White Stag Publishing, 2018 [forthcoming]). She is also responsible for the "Psychic Privates EP", a poetry chapbook on 7” vinyl (TENDE RLOIN, 2017). Her poems, art, and other abominations have been featured in Spork, Epiphany, Industrial Lunch, Smoking Glue Gun, Luna Luna Magazine, Paper Darts, The Volta, Tarpaulin Sky, Makeout Creek, Dusie, Mojo, Best American Experimental Writing (BAX) 2015, and many others. Though her domain name has lapsed to our internet porn overlords, you can still cruise her at ih8kimvodicka.tumblr.com.