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sissy buckles (con’t).

keep my big fat mouth shut then wracked, anguish seeping into quiescent abyss after someone I loved upon reading my latest poem called me a dirty slut. Now laboring to calm the tempest choke back sobs flatten to even breaths with supreme effort as I’m sitting in the middle of a rural neighborhood trying once again not to make a complete spectacle of myself desperate to conjure some pitiful consolation, then chanced upon that Claude Van Damme ‘B’ movie I’d happened to watch on cable last week “Lionheart” and the scene where he’s at the fight club and goes down with his ribs broken oh, but you just know he’s going to come back with a roundhouse kick or two or three and finish off his opponent and I got up right then and there wiped away scalding tears grabbed her leash tight to my side and we might be alot of things my Honey and I, but at least we’re not fucking whiners and that’s got to count for something.

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Profile for Chris Talbot-Heindl

The Bitchin' Kitsch May 2015 Issue  

The Bitchin' Kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. It exists for the purpose of open...

The Bitchin' Kitsch May 2015 Issue  

The Bitchin' Kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. It exists for the purpose of open...

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