I Am Heavy With Child



Tasty, though.





My Little Penis-A Poem

My little penis wants to grow, grow, grow!
Something psychological says no, no, no!
My little penis lays there sad and forlorn,
Hasn’t been excited since the day it was born
Women flop it around, cackle, act all coy,
“This isn’t a cock, s’not even a toy!”
My little penis hides in it’s hair,
My little penis is fraught with despair,
My hand cajoles, and strokes with persistence,
As my little penis ponders existence,
I pick up a woman, think of all things dirty,
As soon as we’re home, thing go murky,
She’s compassionate at first, an angel from heaven,
But, as the night goes on, she’s dripping with venom
“This thing’s useless, a dead piece of meat,
Your little penis sure has me beat!”
My little penis tries to take it with grace
I’m different, so, I punch in her face,
My little penis stirs, and begins to grow!
Gets harder, and harder with each bloody blow,
I break her jaw,and I roar like a lion,
My little penis is now hard as iron,
My little penis enters the hole,
Vomits in seconds, too much to behold,
The woman gurgles as I stick her with pins,
I smile as the erection begins,
My little penis is big, strong, and bold,
It’s now a wondrous thing to hold,
It enters again, a determined weapon,
Lasting a lot longer than a few friggin seconds
The woman thrashes, struggles, and cries,
My little penis vomits as she dies,
Such a marvelous feeling, this coming inside,
My little penis oozes with pride
I stroke it, pet it, wash it with reverence,
Greatly pleased I found it’s preference
On the hunt I go for those rejected,
No more will my little penis feel dejected
No more mocking, ridicule, or scorn,
My little penis has finally been born


“Do you know where you are?”
“N-no-looks like a basement-someone’s basement?”
“Do you know who you are?”
“Who- my name? I…I’m-Jesus…, I don’t know-I-I don’t know!””
“Do you know what you did?”
“Did? Did? I haven’t done anything…have I?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Nothing, fuck, my mind is blank. What’s with all these questions? Who am I? Where am I? What did I do? Who the fuck are you? ”
“You did this-”
“Jesus! No, no, no, there’s no way I could do that…no, no way…, right?”
“Wrong. That’s the aftermath. You did it all right.”
“There has to be some mistake! I couldn’t do-Christ, there’s hardly anything left of those people, I couldn’t…, I just know I couldn’t…, Jesus…, did I? I can’t remember anything! I-I, oh God, I can’t remember!”
“Look at this picture.That’s you sitting in the middle of all that carnage. You see those little bones in your hands, the ones you’re using as chopsticks? That’s part of little Nathan, 13 months old. Your son.”
“My-what? What? Son? Did you say…, son?”
“You had a beautiful wife, Tracy, and two beautiful boys, Nathan, and Derek. You annihilated them.”
“No! No, I would not do something like that! You’re fucking with my head! Your-”
“You did it. You killed your family. You consumed your family. Congratulations, you’re more reviled than Dahmer”
“Look at your hands, we tried to wash it off, but the blood has stained your skin. Look under your fingernails, there’s still tissue underneath them. Look inside yourself, Look deep, and ask yourself, could I do this? Could I murder with such brutality, such depravity?”
“I can’t, I can’t”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid!”
“Of what?”
“Of the answer, of course!”
“You know, you know deep down that you did it. You-”
“Who am I?”
“From the pictures, it looks like you are the Devil himself”
“My name…, what’s my name?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know! I don’t know! Jesus, why are you fucking with me like this?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Remember. I’m trying to help you to remember-”
“Dammit! I can’t fucking remember anything! Can’t you understand that? I-wait a minute…wait a minute…, oh, I get it now…, yes…, oh, yes…, you’ve erased my memory somehow…, this is a mindfuck…, ah…, why didn’t I think of that before? You’ve set this up. Those pictures aren’t real. They’re fake, photoshopped, manipulated…, lots of stuff you can do with pictures these days…, there are tells, yes, tells, and I’m going to find them. I have rights, don’t I? I demand a lawyer! I want to see the original photo on a computer. I want to take it apart, pixel, by, pixel, I’ll see the truth then, I’ll-”
“How do you know that?”
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know about Photoshop, and picture manipulation? Was that your job?”
“How the fuck should I know? I can’t remember! Everyone knows about Photoshop, and digital manipulation, pixels,and BMP’s, JPEGs, gifs, layers, drop shad-…, oh”
“My mind, it’s like a little light showing through. I see a monitor, an image of a monster…, grotesque…, terrifying…,I think… I…”
“Describe it”
“The image?”
“Yes. Can you see it clearly?”
“Madness, I’m insane, that explains everything. If I created that-”
“What’s it look like?”
“Like…,like nothing that could be created from a human mind…, something only a madman could create…, is that it? I’m insane? Are you even in front of me? Am I talking to myself? Oh, Jesus, Jesus, I’m scared, so scared…, can’t you tell me my name? Please? Help me? Did I really kill those people?”
“I’m trying to help you remember. It’s very important that you remember everything. Who you are, what you did, why you did it. We’re getting somewhere, believe me, this is helping, now what does it look like?”
“It’s a creature with three heads…, one of the heads seems human…, but…, there’s something off about it. It’s as if someone who had heard of the human race, but had never seen a human being tried to create a face from a vague description. It’s just all wrong…, it’s body seems immense, vast, scaly…, I see warts, pustules, slits in it’s sides weeping thick, black blood, it has long legs, but, they seem too skinny and insubstantial to hold it’s weight, It’s feet have long, sharp claws, it has no arms, but it has wings, leathery, transparent, I could count the blood vessels if I wanted to, it’s so detailed. One of the heads is all mouths, full of sharp teeth, gnashing and snapping, poisoned drool drips from those mouths, the other head is nothing but eyes, black, soulless eyes, full of hatred, and disdain, and violence. I could not have created this…, no man could have created this monstrosity…, it’s an embodiment of all that is wrong with the universe, looking at it sends your senses into hiding. You can feel the hatred emanating from this…, this thing. I can see a title on the bottom of the image. It reads The Thing That Is, Was, And Ever Shall Be. Below that it states To Release, Consume…, what does that mean?”
“Think. You have to remember!”
“I see this…, I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know why I created-”
“Open your mind. Remember. Remember! Remember!”
“But, why?”
“Because only you can send it back.”

Room To Let

Room To Let
William Morgan


“See, Missus? The room’s too small.”

Huh, look at that? She has her hands to her face, she’s gone all pale, and her mouth is open in a big wide O. Reminds of that painting I once saw. Some brain and bone slides down the wall and her Yorkie runs and tears into it as if it hasn’t been fed in weeks.

Mrs Brannon gasps, collapses.

I let go of the little boys leg, and step over Mrs Brannon, scratch out her listing in the newspaper.

On to the next one.

Looks like this is gonna take a while

Where The Hell Does It Come From? Lines From A Dark Mind


Sometimes, out of nowhere, not really thinking of anything, a line, or, an image

pops in my mind. Fucked if I know where it comes from. It’s usually twisted,

usually sick, always disturbing.

More often than not, it appears when I am driving home from work. It takes me 40

minutes. The drive is usually on dark roads, and there is hardly any traffic. The

radio is on, but, I’m not listening. I have it on for the noise. Windows down, high

beams on, speed 60mph, zoned out from the familiarity, bored…

Then, BAM!

Some dark matter enters my brain. I’m not consciously thinking of anything, I’m not

thinking to be honest. It’s the same drive every night. The same fucking drive. That

sameness will be the death of me one of these days when I’ll notice a deer 

crossing the road  a few seconds too late.

Anyway, something dark, and disturbing enters my noggin.

Like this, for example.

 “Sally! Would you please, puhleezz stop playing with Granddad’s penis!”

“But, Mom, I like flopping it around, and I think he likes it, I really do.”

“How would you know, he’s in a fucking coma for chrissakes!”

“Well,look, he’s growing…’


Suddenly, the woman gets up off the chair by the bed, stands over her Father, who’s

laying so still it’s as if he’s practicing death, and slaps him hard in the face.

“You sick bastard!” she sobs.

I wish I knew where that comes from, so’s I could shut it off. Have something nice

materialize in me head, like fluffy bunnies, cute cuddly teddy bears, unicorns,

double rainbows, grumpy cats playing the piano while an adorable mutt chases its

tail, as a beautiful baby coos and claps its hands in sheer delight…

Or…maybe not..all that stuff would make me puke.

“Daddy! Daddy, wake up! Daddy!”

“Uh, huh? Um, what time is it? Christ, my head. What is it, son?”

“My butt hurts, Daddy. It really hurts!”

“Aw, Jesus, sorry son, I was drunk. Wrong room.”

See what I mean?


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