Evening Will Come: A Monthly Journal of Poetics (NSFW—Issue 45, September 2014)

Kim Vodicka
3 Poems & Collage

The Dawn of a Brand New F❤ckface

Fingered in the gunshot wound.

Bore me a new one.

I can’t seem to bullet together.

One of those long legged nights,

on a gun, off again.

I get down on my needlings

and pray to god love you.

I been high all night pants at my feet,

so lonely and horny and just

so loosely


I’ll fuck you with my hard pussy.

When you eat my cunt, you badmouth it.

Fuck it if you didn’t hurt my hearty

but at least you didn’t blow it.

I passed out in mid eat-out

because love is retarded.

My bullshit brings all the boys to the yard,

and still there is not enough cum here to quench.

Two girls one cut flowers bloody,

how fucketh.

Siamese twin girls joined at the retard-on.

Love is a retard-on,

casting unnamed flowers upon the thy and the thou,

amid all of this partridge embarrass.

I’ve always remembered wanting to marry every.

70,000 kisses per year.

I see her boozèd I love her behest.

She shall be the one to make shine sure my daughter.

And all the big bad bones say


Don’t dog pile me,

I’m already a bitch

with a big bad


I waft my love upside your face,

you and die,

when you read my cunt like a palm.

But wait,

that’s probably just the blood

from my vacate,

and you are horrified

on my behalf.

We’re all gonna die,

and I am so alive to this.

Pissing away our evermore.

I’ll swallow cum till kingdom come.

So waft thy love in the face of thy beloved,

and if he doth not beloved against, well then—

My bullshit brings all the boys to the yard.

Worm it up.

Fecund With D❤ke

More should be cunt and bellissima.

There’s a bug in every goddess, bend and kneel.

I sip my shots, like a lady.

Sissy’s hairy vainglory at a 90 degree angel.

Crocheting was of yeast infection born.

We all of us have a rape tunnel.

Basic bitches getting complicatedly murdered.

LIKE, DUH is the only necessary logic.

The better to freak your shit, my dear.

Suicidally horny.

You can see the depression on the carpet.

The harasses of semi-requited love.

Though I prefer the frank, to be quite cock.

Shoplifting dick in the niche market.

I feel like I need to wake up and die.

When I close my eyes, it’s a disco.

As though an adrenaline shot to the heart was worth standing up for.

Carpe unicorn.

The ego has landed.

We are a love-endangered species.

Love as ferocity.

Oh, but I was retarded and feathered in lovebird’s trifle.

Come to my rose with a door.

Lush beauty at the moment of trespass.

I tried to masturbate and almost drowned.

Dessert in the clothes you once war.

The T❤ranny of the Bawdy

My asshole feels so great and gaping.

My little ass of giving.

I will buy you a corn hole

where your flowers can bloom.

If I ever break wind of it.

You got your cunts toe tagged.

Dental records abled me to ID your ex-pussy.

21 and older, or smolder in your smile machine.

Your mind is moon, raining unchained melody.

Like when you piss and shit at the same time,

and you get all emotionally,

and eventually—

A culture is more powerful than a mother.

A culture is more powerful than a mother

speaks Valiums.

A tough pillow to swallow.

Pantyhose: For the girl who dreams.

Put that in your puppy longstocking.

Your grown-ass manhood tickles me pink.

I wish all penises were kitties.

I need a sanitary napkin to sop up my feelings.

A simple bra to occupy my time.

Just me and my lastly, a king-legged jetty.

20,000 beleaguereds under the sea.

The failure of the deep.

Those starry-eyed sexists,

when left to their masturbatory devices,

all my kegels turn to sand.

Being alive is not PC.

Fun is a terminal disease.

A scrub is a guy who can get ALL my love from me.

The male specie.

If it makes you cry, then it’s the one.

The body misogynists itself.

My heart up my ass.

And the deviled eggs

were the laughing stock

of the party.