Go here for the latest lgbtq news and fun!

This review is a hoot! Nice correlation between Sex and the City and a sexually confused middle aged man

But that’s because I’ve been creating this online publication for the LGBTQ community. Our first issue is up!

WELCOME TO THE494.COM

You’re so different now.
You’ve changed so much!

What a shame to never know what that’s like.

Take an early morning
after the acid rain has settled in your skin


and you haven’t slept
since Tuesday.

Remember the bumps
and bruises

and laugh at the dried wine
you thought was blood

Gnats
Knives
Whore
Knock
Damn

Lactose Intolerant

If you spill milk
you should never cry


Watch it spread
into the creases
of the wood
you were beat
with

Watch a kitten
with the same curiosity


lap up the puddle
of virgin bliss
feeling revived
as opposed to
you

PMS 1935

I traveled McCarthy’s road,
and I passed that father and son
in my rusty
Radioflyer.

They choked on ashes, and
I had it good.

atonguewithbutsixwords:

Prompt: “I’m 100% sure she’s just pretending to like me for attention. Advice, Six?”

Don’t focus
on her
faux kiss.

Homophoetry

I just have to get something off my chest

*unhooks bra*

Okay.

Swallowing the glass
with a hard, steady heartbeat.
Static eyes on you.

How to Put a Strawberry in a Blueberry

Put your underage friend
in the passenger seat.
Let her drink.
Let her drink.

She laughs, blows smoke
and lets her freckled skin lean
against the door of your 
baby blue Volvo.

A beautiful time,
and on the way home,
her stomach winds with the road.

You hit a rabbit,
and she laughs,
and she chokes.

And before you can stop,
she’s painted a new definition
of strawberry fields
forever
on your

floorboard.



Fifty Cents an Ounce

Hello! Hello!
To all the tired travelers
that made it across the
the Big Four Bridge
to bitch
because
you thought
we served
ice cream.

Welcome!
To you,
yes you,
who turned
the sprinkles knob
and released
a flood
of aesthetic tubes
to color
the counter

Hi there!
To all of you
fuckers
eating 
and
licking
before

you
    weigh
            and
                 pay

It takes tequila and salt to burn a metaphorical wound you’d “rather not talk about.” And you don’t have to say anything because you think the smoke talks. It says it all. Play it safe with creased lips, and live in a void where you’re nothing vivid, but comfortably numb in the peripheral.

Kudos.

A Pollock Impression

Fingernails
and cigarette butts
in blood

Flowers
to make it seem
careful

Four weeks
of quiet, summer
heat

All slathered
and secured

on a white square