Alex is a med student, whom occupies his time writing poems and lyrics and studying for his courses. Just like me, he lives in NY.
I'm a 13 year old that spends most of his days playing chess and usually drinking coffee. Occasionally, I write.
Here are some poems by Alex:
1st Poem
Boils begin to spawn from the depths of hell.
A sure sign all is not well.
However ignorance is a talent you hold dear,
A way to silently cope with fear.
2nd Poem
Excuses seem to plague your speech
And health seems to be out of reach.
What's the point to fight for a cure,
When the symptoms will still endure.
Now, here are some of my stories.
1st Story
Sitting in a Starbucks café, you sip your cappuccino---watching all of the college students on their laptops—the sweet smell of the ground coffee makes your eyes water with nostalgia of how easy life used to be. The roasting coffee sat in the air as a vexing reminder of how pathetic you have become to appreciate something so simple. You take a sip of your cappuccino— the black liquid violently burns your throat as it flows down the tissue of your stomach. You decide to leave and are waved goodbye from an acne-faced employee.
It was late afternoon; the faint sun barely visible from the foreshadowing clouds and was now minutes from disappearing from the horizon, creating a dreary gray sky. ‘’Where the fuck is my car?’’, you growl. It is windy outside, an icy gust starts to blow your overcoat upwards, as you shudder from hail ricocheting off your eye sockets. Whilst wandering blindly through the parking lot, you bump into your 1978 Ford station wagon. The doors are unlocked, since there would be no one alive who would have attempted to steal such a wreck. The seat’s covers were ripped off and the odor of the car smelled of decaying fish and a McDonald’s restroom. Reluctantly, you climb in. You put the key into the ignition and after a series of sputters, the car finally starts up. The gear shift contained termites and a fake, rotting wood. With aggravation and disgust, you try to put your car into reverse, it shatters—your face showered with a cloud of dust and mold. You sit down dumbfounded, frantically checking your pockets for a cell phone whilst coughing and wheezing.
2nd Story
I tried to go onto my internet browser but nothing happened. I had only wanted to check my e-mail. I massaged my temples – trying to withhold my aggravation. However, this was the equivalent to taping one’s mouth shut when they were about to throw up. Manically, I began clicking my mouse, punching my keyboard. The keys, coated with semen, shattered into the air. Dissatisfied, I took my desktop and began smashing it like an ape. With a faint grin, I listened to the sharp hissing sound of my hands dismembering the screen. My knuckles were reduced to bloody stumps but I remained unfulfilled. I decided my creaking 1.0 GHz processing, 56 k modem computer had to be dealt with. ‘’But how?’’, I pondered. It wasn’t long before my disturbed mind had an idea. With unrelenting excitement, I unzipped my fly, ripped the back of my computer off, and hurled it to the ground. My blood rose down to my throbbing cock. I thrusted my member into the CPU. The metal began to scrape my scrotum. After minutes of pumping, I stood up and jerked off—blood rained off of my bleeding knuckles as I blew my load. Still barely amused, I realized I had to piss badly. With great relief, I watched my golden stream fill the Motherboard.
It was quite a sight, the mercilessly unresponsive contraption consisted of an impressive mix of sperm, blood, dust, and piss.
And just like that....he was gone...
