I never expected to be loved
There are some shortcomings
And here I am
Stuck in a glue trap
“Flesh imbued with pain.”
Heart doesn’t care anymore,
It barely pumps blood
And I hear it
Function like an abandoned beehive
Dust gets in your eyes
Flecks of honey distributed for hedonism.
Into a white tar pit
Evidence of Red Lipstick on the end of a cigarette butt
Craving for a hit
A dream someone had dreamt before,
But the Queen pushes me away.
“These lungs aren’t going to immolate themselves.”
Ash trapped on my beard
The tower is burning
The entity free falls
No soft landing, tainted by love.
Ribcage is a prison,
And I’ve been institutionalized.
Leave my scrawl marks behind,
I don’t have any good memories to share.
(C) A.R. Minhas 2019
Raw silk, pure power
I feel the anger of drunk drivers passing by
She undresses in that winter moon
I lay naked next to you, and I feel you in heat
“Taste it, spit the seeds”
I’m a meat eater, but I’ll promise to drink more cranberry juice
And I promise
I won’t fall in love again
You saw what happened last time?
Coughed up a lung in love
Footed the bill
And my thoughts have become more bureaucratic
I know exactly what forms to fill out
Replacement heart on the way
Plus shipping and handling
I promise I don’t need anyone
You can ask my dreams
You can ask my bank account
And my investments are doing well too
Painting pictures of zero balances on my credit card
Could you imagine?
If you never made mistakes
Protein shake diets
I’m taking care of myself
And I don’t need anyone
Even if your touch leads to those special endorphins
There’s a new year coming up
And I’m sorry for repeating
But there won’t be any regrets anymore.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
I’m drinking again
And all I can think of, is her.
It’s cold outside
And the warm melted cheese of my quesadilla
Embraces the foamy amber.
I keep talking about the time I fell in love
And even though I know my friend is tired of me talking about her
I don’t care
I get poetical when I’m drunk,
And I dream of my waitress giving me blowjobs
In that perfect way, she used to
The way she would roll her tongue and sometimes use the sharpness of her teeth…
Nothing like the threat of castration
To get harder
She pulled me closer, and I told her my chemicals were for her.
And her skin was meant for me to puncture
And draw monuments to
The way I used the red pen
No one else will know
I remember the swelling of breasts,
Swelling in my mouth.
My mother told me that she never breastfed me,
Maybe that’s why I’m so needy,
I excuse myself for a cigarette outside.
I want to be alone.
And if there’s a god, he’s given me the gift of wanting-to-be-alone.
And I exhale smoke in triangular propulsion
Each howl of wind wakes me from sleepiness
And my thoughts race
To the pinkness of her thighs,
Softness of her hair,
Even the slight coarseness of her armpits.
I’m still thinking about her.
The perfect form.
And I’m thinking about her betrayal,
And I’m thinking about forgiving her,
Our Bodies betray us
But she will always be perfect in my mind.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
Sitting by the lake
If you can see me now
What do I have to lose?
If I wasn’t here it wouldn’t matter
If I’m not here it wouldn’t change you
It wouldn’t change the crystal clear water
There is nothing that I can do
Lying here impotent
On red Muskoka chairs
No matter how far I travel
Or where I sit
It doesn’t change
I can never get comfortable
Feeling useless isn’t unique
But feeling nothing
I try to bleed them but they keep coming back
Nesting in my ears
You can hear them
Constructing a web
Trap the flies
I wish I could trap your eyes
Stroke them with honey
This sugar is for you
And there’s nothing left for me.
Leaving, wouldn’t matter
Is suspended mid-air
Spiders make me uncomfortable
And that’s why I can’t sit still.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
My sense of humor is a death trap
Lock Jaw. Trap shut.
There goes your face
Contact lenses lost within eyes.
Go find your broken glasses.
And here come the golden cicadas
While I masturbate with my own thoughts
I’ll hide behind your pale breasts
The blood from my gums left behind
Thumbs leave an impression
Fingers pulsate with love
Silkworms on their arduous task
Going uphill on ashened graves
A plume of waxed legs
Use them to silence me
My sense of humor will kill you
If you came to close to it
The Birth of a joke
Laugh in the face of absurdity
You are lost
And there is laughter everywhere
And I can’t help myself
© A.R. Minhas 2017
My words have failed me
And so has everyone else
If there was a bullet
I could shoot
I would shoot it with my teeth
Everything is falling apart
As it always does
And I’m here to chew on your ashes
Like sweet betel-leaf
“Spit out the purple residue!”
Our gums have long expired
They’re longing for Vitamin C
Fructose spilled on your car
Calcium deposits remain
And the smoke chars your pinched breast
They open and close like eyes
I’ve never had a taste of those protruding nipples
That stab me in the throat
As we become one
And you give me sustenance
I know it calms you down more than Sativa
Bless me with your chemicals, and I’ll bless you with mine!
© A.R. Minhas 2017
This is an excerpt from the novel “Confessions of an Abortion Addict.” The novel is still in progress and this excerpt might not be sequential and will be subject to additional editing. Please provide feedback. Thank you!
The room was a vacuum of white static. A giant corridor in a hospital except without the smell of disinfectant; it smelt more like a perfume counter of a department store. This is the beginning of your new life. There are other would-be actresses that Virchow, has lured with a promise of fame and stardom. The other girls come in different sizes, but they have the same age: under 30-ish. Old man craves young flesh. Practicing lines, pouting lips in Vanity Mirrors, Refreshing make-up and they have brought with them the dreams that are about to be realized. I adjust my yellow dress that I’ve worn after my agent’s continuous pestering and pleas to look presentable.
I have my hair down, from what I can see in the mirror at the opposite end. It looks matte black. My skin also feels darker because I didn’t feel like going too heavy for the make-up. I’d really don’t like being here too, but my agent insists that ambition is the key. You have to make things happen.
“I love the yellow you’re wearing, it really compliments your skin tone,” the girl next to me says.
“Oh, Thanks!” I said, and it took a moment for me to realize that she was talking to me. No one had said a word to me this entire afternoon, except for maybe verifying that I was on the audition list. This girl was very peculiar; for one thing, everyone had come with portfolios, their bags and of course they were all dressed to reflect their own particular set of assets. While she was wearing a low-cut, plain white tee, black leather vest with spiked studs, a multitude of scarves and accessories, on a skinny frame with a heavy dose of mascara which made the blues on her eyes feel piercing. “I love your get up too,” I try to mirror the compliment but it might have felt a little insincere due to the long pause.
“Ha-ha, please, don’t lie. I know I’m underdressed, but my agent forced me to come here,” she gently strokes her serpentine red hair.
“That sounds awesome—you have anything else lined up?”
“A couple of things. Plus, I’ve not heard anything good about, Virchow. One of my friends was telling me that he makes the girls take off their top and chooses them based on the color of their areolas.”
“Really?” I replied. Don’t listen to the competition, June…she just wants to see you walk out that door. “Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t have a very sparkling reputation, but that’s low— even for him…just out of curiosity what color does he prefer?”
“Apparently, he really likes nipples to complement the rest of the breast, so they become camouflaged.” She says in an indifferent tone. “I have darker nipples anyway, so I’m already out.”
“No offense but if that’s the case why don’t you just walk out right now?” I ask her with a bluntness that I didn’t even know I had in me. Yeah, tell the truth.
“Well, it’s a rumor, and in this day and age everyone makes up their own rumors. I just want to see who is bullshitting me, right?” She says that without blinking. “Oh, by the way, my name is Sally, Sally Chrysler. Not like the car, please don’t make that joke— I probably should change my last name— anyway, you can call me, Sly. You might remember me from such classics as Prairie Shark, Wendigo: the awakening and of course Who brought the lumberjack on my fishing boat, eh?”
“Ha-ha,” I couldn’t help but chuckle at her, it was a little difficult to keep pace with her thoughts. “Hi, Sally…urm…sorry, Sly. I’m June, June Husk. I’ve also only been in Canadian Movies, mostly. I did some stuff with Tcherkov, but as it was pointed out to me by my Agent, for me to ‘make it’ I have to go to Hollywood…well nice to meet you.” I palm her hand and she goes for the cheek-to-cheek, and we end up in between a low hug and front-on spooning.
“Nice to meet you too, June. I can’t say, I’ve seen you in anything…but you look familiar but here’s hoping this is your big break.”
“I hope so too,” I said with a heavy sigh. There is a long moment of silence between us, and the long gap is filled with Sly’s intermittent whistling.
“Hey, once you’re done do you wanna go out for a couple of drinks?” She says in her pattern of blurts.
“Umm…I have to be somewhere after, but we can go out sometime later this week.”
“Great, by the way, it wasn’t meant as a date or anything—hmm…I just like to you know network a little bit.”
“You really are awkward aren’t you?” I replied, smiling back at her.
“Yeah, you noticed?”
“Yes, I did,” we laughed, and for a moment we forgot that we were sitting in a hallway filled with anxious starlets.
“June! June Husk!” A voice bellowed.
“That’s you…go! go!”
“Thanks!” I leaped up, pirouetting across the rows of starry-eyed, doe-faced hopefuls. She gave me an air kiss and stuck her card inside my purse in a flash. I swore that I heard her say, all the best, as I rushed towards the assistant who called me.
“June Husk…nice name.” He said holding a clipboard close to his chest.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
I have a new formation in my mouth
It spouts lies and carbon dioxide
If there was anywhere, I could be
I would be somewhere else
“Blackness of the night is the perfect cover for a lonely soul.”
I exhale the smoke to paint the world in the red of mercury movies.
I know the pink blossoms from your upturned lips
If there was a way, I could enucleate your third eye…
I would, without the proper soma
The tongue summons forth the goddess of Serotonin
Blue-ringed skin, stubbed of afternoon love-making.
If I could love again, I would bless you with my famed paper laurel.
Drawing you naked with charcoal finger touch.
I’ve tasted an ashtray, but nothing like this
A plantation of teeth-marks
A garden of pussy licks
Areolas entangled like barbed wire. Breasts encircled.
Inner thighs like cushions of static
Head is dawn, Pubic hair is darkness
I pull you by that and leave my name with a serrated knife.
And you squeal like a sacrificial lamb.
Blood gets everywhere, even in my mouth.
Gums are weak, but your teeth threaten castration.
I can’t keep my alcohol, and I can’t keep you.
If there were a way I could love you I would
But I would much rather be here than somewhere else.
© A.R. Minhas 2017