I Will Never Drive a Big Rig (Poetry)

I rely on taking breaks from the world to endure it,
Whether through sleeping (despite my insomnia),
Writing, or through the wonders of virtual reality;
Today, a Saturday, I woke up so exhausted,
And mentally drained from a long week at work
(I’ll never get used to returning home at night),
That after eating I only wanted to take a nap;
My mind remained foggy and sluggish,
So I knew I wouldn’t write anything of value,
But I didn’t want to sleep through the day,
So I returned to my comfort game in VR,
Which consists on driving virtual trucks around

Due to how my brain works from birth,
I’ve never learned to drive;
My mind takes flight by itself,
And when it returns to reality,
I have to reacquaint myself
With whatever I was doing

I’ve talked with other autistic people,
And some understand what I mean,
But others are driving safely to this day
(Then again, autism seems to be caused
By atypical pruning of neuron connections
In babies’ brains as they develop,
Producing different overall configurations)

(There was this guy who crashed many times,
And who got his driver’s license revoked,
But he had taken so many drugs in his youth
That he now suffers from epileptic seizures)

My point is that my wiring is all fucked up,
And I rarely know how much I care about things,
Except maybe for food and shelter and sex
(And VR also helps with one of those things)

My mind takes flight even when I try to focus;
I don’t think anybody has noticed at work,
Although I keep being absent in conversations,
But my inability to stick to reality
Constantly ends up with me rear-ending
The poor bastard who was driving in front of me

Thankfully this only happens in video games,
Such as when I’m driving a virtual truck,
But if I was able to drive my own vehicle,
I’m sure I would crash in less than a week,
Or maybe I would obey my nagging thoughts
About driving straight, full speed, into a wall

(Besides, I’ve never had a stable job;
I rarely know if enough money will come in,
So I can hardly justify buying a vehicle
When the public transport is so good here)

Learning to endure my lot in life
Has depended on me facing the reality
That I’m equipped with two different brains:
One the analytical, slower one on top,
And the other the primordial, bestial brain
Which takes most of the decisions for us
While the analytical brain makes up a story
(So it can keep telling itself that it’s in charge)

Immersing myself in VR is a constant reminder
That although my PC is producing the world,
My primitive brain is deceived easily,
So I get to escape for a while from my life
Because my stupid brain is convinced
That I’m a trucker driving through Europe
While listening to popular tunes
(From annoying modern music
To the rock classics from decades ago,
But all of them feel good while driving)

When you’re trapped inside a truck cab,
You stop thinking about your problems,
And if the right song ends up playing,
It’ll make you feel like you’re on the road
With the wind blowing through the windows,
As you drive across the plains of France
While the sun shines in the sky,
And the beautiful landscapes never end

(But the VR journeys always end,
Because I have to return to my real life,
And I need to remember to eat and sleep
If I want to continue driving a truck
In the virtual reality, where I am king
Of the highway, and my trucks rule the land)

Driving a virtual truck fills me with nostalgia
About a world I haven’t experienced in reality,
That involves sitting inside a huge metal box
Which would explode into mush any human
Who was stupid enough to walk in front of it

My virtual trucks make me feel powerful and free,
And like I could drive to the ends of the Earth,
If I could afford all the gasoline it would take
And if my trucks wouldn’t break down so often

Being a trucker sounds like a blissful life,
But many things sound good when imagined;
In reality, you need to sleep at fixed times,
At random rest areas frequented by weirdoes
Who may decide to break into your truck,
And I doubt that the deliveries pay enough,
Or else most truckers would be filthy rich;
They don’t seem to have much luck at making
A living off their trucks, although they are kings

Still, I want to drive through the desert
While listening to radio stations,
And singing along to the music,
And worrying about being abducted by aliens,
(And coming across ghost hitchhikers,
Or sasquatches that crossed the road)

My mind would keep drifting away from reality
While I thought about the important stuff,
Like how to repair my truck’s engine,
Or when I should pick up the next prostitute,
Or whether I should become a serial killer

When my mind would return to reality,
I would have crashed into a telephone pole,
And there would be suspicious splatters,
Huge and red ones, dirtying my windshield,
But luckily I wouldn’t have died,
So I would keep driving around town
Till my truck started to smoke;
Then I’d find a motel room
Where I could spend the night

(I would be woken up by a loud alarm clock,
And I’d start my day with a cup of coffee,
Then I’d drive my truck back to the shop
For repairs, or to get a new one)

I never became a trucker,
I will never drive a big rig,
And those are my biggest regrets in life,
But maybe there’s time to move to Brazil,
Where I could rent a truck and drive straight
Into that goddamn Amazon jungle,
To be the first to cut it through
With my huge metal box I’d sit in,
While I listened to the radio
And failed to see another person
For days at a time
(Unless I drove into them)

My brain feels like shit today,
But I’m a failure if I don’t produce a text,
So I wrote these words that I hope you enjoyed;
Now I can return to my virtual trucks
And my virtual life, which is just as real
As the one I live in (although it’s not)

‘I Will Never Drive a Big Rig’ by Jon Ureña

I Gave Birth to This Thing (Poetry)

My pregnancy went right for the first few weeks,
But then my son began to move about
Like an acrobat on stilts
Who isn’t the slightest bit sure-footed

My son grew bigger and bigger,
Although I barely nourished him,
And when he finished his dance
(Or rather, his somersault),
It burst out through my navel
And fell onto my bed with a plop;
I had given birth to a pink, slimy egg,
That I called, after much thought,
A baby

The thing was still warm from my womb;
The egg’s soft shell felt like velvet in my hands,
And I stroked it gently as if it were a living creature
That would soon hatch into a new life form

(My thoughts turned back to the moment
When a sperm came near to breaking through my egg
And made that strange movement
Which was the prelude to a unique creation,
One that was doomed from start to finish
By some cosmic accident or mistake,
And now the whole process appeared
Less mysterious than cruel)

At last the miracle occurred: the egg split open
And out came out crawling this beautiful baby boy:
A tangled mass of tentacles, beaks and teeth,
And a single eye, which rolled around madly

My son didn’t look at all like me,
And he also could speak telepathically
(I can only make out words
In between bouts of nausea and fainting spells)

“Mommy, can you hear what I’m saying?”
“Of course”
“Can you understand what I say?”
“Why not? You’re my son”
“You mean that you can see my thoughts
Floating there above my head?”
“Yes”
“What are they thinking now?”
“That you’ve just been born,
And that I should be proud of you”

My poor son couldn’t stand up properly
Without falling over,
So every time he moved his mass,
He got himself in trouble

Between wrinkles, his body hid tiny mouths,
Which contained fangs like those of sharks;
At night he would scream with pain,
And in the morning he’d cry out again

Instead of suckling on my tits,
This son of mine latched on to my skin
With half a dozen of his tentacles,
And sucked through my pores
Until the red stuff trickled out
From where I was bleeding inside

His little eye stared at me blankly
As if it were made of glass
While he sucked away at my flesh;
Afterwards, when he got tired,
He let go and fell down on the floor
In front of the mirror where I gazed at myself

After having been fed upon by him,
My breasts bled so much
That I couldn’t staunch the wounds,
Which itched and hurt terribly

My eyes looked dead;
I dreamed about black birds flying overhead,
I dreamt of the moon
As I was carried along under water

Sometimes my son was silent,
At other times he babbled unintelligibly;
All that was obvious to my eyes
Were the bubbles of blood around his beaks,
And the blood that ran down onto his belly
To mix with the yellow-green fluid
Of the pus that filled him up;
Also, slime covered him like an orange scarf

One evening as I lay asleep,
My son came down from his perch high above
And took a bite out of my breasts;
The bitten flesh turned black and fell away,
But he ate these bits of meat and sucked
On the wounds left behind

When dawn broke next day,
Both of my breasts were gone;
They probably flew far away
Into some other nest

When my son grew hungrier, he ate me
Until he sucked the marrow from my bones;
My blood is now all used up,
The tissues of my limbs are rotting away inside,
The nerves have died,
My bones are hollow,
My skull contains only air;
I am now just another victim
Of motherly devotion

I can never get rid of my spawn,
Not if I try forever;
After him, I don’t want any more children,
Nor any more slimy eggs

I will wait until I become old enough
For someone else to take care of me;
It will surely feel much better than tending
To this abominable son of mine,
Who has eaten everything there was to eat
Of what once belonged to me

‘I Gave Birth to This Thing’ by Jon Ureña

An Untethered Life (Poetry)

Years ago I stored a permanent memory:
My latest relationship had ended badly,
And I was standing in a random street
While I looked down at my two feet;
I suddenly felt that the tethers
I had allowed that person to attach to my skin,
And that tied me to another human being
Wherever in the world she happened to be,
Had been forcefully severed,
And I found myself like a stranded astronaut
Drifting through the black void,
Unable even to radio back home

Ever since, I’ve refused to let anyone
Tether themselves to my sensitive skin;
All I’ve learned from my intimate relationships
Is that I wasn’t born for any of it
They were just there as an excuse for me to live,
To enjoy life while pretending to love them

(Besides, what a romantic relationship provides
Isn’t worth the demands and the humiliations)

Real human beings are far too complicated
For someone like me, who’s only ever loved
Either the broken or the monsters
(Most of them fictional, some I made up)

Human beings are bound to bother you,
And if you lack the instinct to interact with them,
They only steal your time and energy
That could have gone into writing,
Or anything better than dealing with them,
Such as idly browsing the internet;
I only want people when I want them,
Otherwise they should go away

(I still fantasize about fucking
The many attractive women
That I come across any given day,
But that’s the hormones speaking,
And VR is very good at solving
That age-old problem)

This week I’ve been working afternoons;
By one and a half PM I want to take a nap,
But I have to traverse my city
(Which has become merely a container
Where dozens of nationalities push each other),
Get on a train, and later on take a bus,
So I can work at an office doing shit
That I couldn’t care less about

At the end of the month I get angry
Because the government steals
Hundreds of euros I need for myself,
So it can fund my country’s suicide
(Or more appropriately, its murder)

And I only care because I have to live here
(I couldn’t begin to figure out how to leave);
I’ve already had people trying to break in,
And a woman almost got raped nearby
(The neighbors beat the culprit up);
Just two things on top of the usual shit

I make my way back home
At eleven PM at night,
And I usually just stare up ahead
So I don’t despair at the chaos,
And the hopelessness of our future

I guess it’s different for those people
Who look around and feel connected,
But wherever I look, I see flat images,
Ones that don’t elicit any feelings
(Any positive ones, at least)

Walking through my workspace,
Or any of the streets I pass through,
They remind me of movie sets
Where important movies had been filmed,
But that have been abandoned to rot,
And the people who remain around
Keep cleaning and repairing the sets
Without knowing why,
And without a single clue about
What it all means

At work, I keep looking at the time
As the hours tick by;
The years have gone by so fast,
And I’ve wasted my youth,
My entire life,
Waiting for a phone call or email
From people who never contacted me

I’m working through the second full-length revision
Of that novel I wrote in May, about the ghost woman,
But it advances slowly, and the process is painful;
Those scenes feel like memories from a past life,
Moments that I’ve seared in my brain
Because nothing in reality makes any sense to me

I wish I could delude myself into going back,
To live vicariously through their fictional lives;
I’ve never cared about my own,
For as long as I remember, I’ve wanted to disappear

(I’m just waiting to be shot down
By an army of soldiers and policemen,
And when they finally find me,
I’ll probably get the same treatment I gave others)

Why go on living if you know
How pointless your life truly is?
How much pain and suffering
Are worth enduring?

(You’re just a pawn in someone else’s game,
A piece that no one cares about,
An object to use and discard,
A tool to satisfy the needs of the powerful)

I only have days in which such questions burn me,
Or those in which nothing manages to matter;
That’s unless I can distract myself
Through writing my way out of hell

None of the stuff I’ve written
Has ever amounted to anything,
But I can be proud that I tried my best,
Even though I knew I would fail

I have no choice but to continue on
To try and escape from my misery
And the future I don’t want,
Which will surely come true
(I hope I die before that happens)

And I do all of this shit
Because I may as well

‘An Untethered Life’ by Jon Ureña

The Well-Hung Duchess of Cosmographica (Poetry)

Bogdana, duchess of the dark motherland,
The forgotten kingdoms of Cosmographica,
Lady and mistress, sovereign of the night,
Queen of the darkest castle, the greatest conqueress,
Rules her subjects through terror and sex

Her castle stands high above all others,
And its towers are made from gold
Few dare rebel against her anymore;
They know she destroys everyone who disobeys

The castle was built three hundred years ago
During Alcindor’s rule as king,
But the man left this country after the war,
And never returned there

Bogdana is his descendant still,
Who rules through the terror and pleasure of sex,
That she uses to maintain the loyalty
Of her vassals, soldiers and slaves

Now Bogdana reigns in this castle, in Alcindor’s place,
And she does not treat her subjects well;
Instead, they serve only to be used by the duchess
Whenever she feels hungry

She’s got the perfect body and face for sex
Her breasts are huge, her hips wide, she’s tall
(About two heads taller than any man)
She’s a beauty who can please any gender

Bogdana was born a miracle from God;
She has two sets of genitals:
A sealed, shriveled vagina,
But the largest, veiniest cock

Beware the evil that hides beneath her skirt,
Those clothes may cover what you shouldn’t see
If anyone ever does gaze upon Bogdana’s cock,
Let alone touch it or look to long upon it,
They will become enslaved by her massive tool
The best way for men to serve her now
Is with their own tongues between her thighs

Her enormous phallus stretches out like a bow
To bend all men, and women as well;
She can break you with a look, but will not hesitate
To fuck a hole open for her own pleasure

Bogdana’s penis doesn’t just end at the pussy;
It ends at the anus too;
Sometimes it extends beyond those openings
And reaches her mouth

Every morning when Bogdana leaves her bedroom,
Us servants gather to see her magnificent bosom
Dressed in silky nightclothes,
Then the the duchess smiles at us
With an expression both terrifying and tender

We can’t contain ourselves, because we admire her
Breathtaking chest, which rises high and proud;
Each of her large mounds sits upon the summit
Of her glorious bosom in an hourglass shape
As her chest rises higher than our heads,
Sometimes we can’t see her face at all

The duchess’ upper half is adorned in pearls
And jewels and precious stones,
And the lower part, covered in smooth white flesh,
Leads to Bogdanas’s delicious ass,
Which she loves to squeeze with each step;
She squeezes so hard that she creates waves,
Which ripple along the floor below,
Causing water and mud everywhere

Bogdana is so powerful, beautiful and big
Nobody knows how to compete with that,
And certainly only the mad would want to;
It would be like trying to fight a hurricane

(As I was sitting to write these words,
The great lady walked into my quarters
And began to remove my clothes;
These days I give myself freely, eagerly,
Because I welcome the privilege of pleasing her,
The mistress who rules over me)

A man could never stand against her frame:
He’d lose in the first minute,
And he’d have to give up and submit
Then, Bogdana would make him pay

The duchess wants subjects who are obedient,
Who sit in a corner like the perfect doll,
Or bow before her to lick her shoes clean
(Or maybe suck out a load of spunk)

Bogdana loves to hear others begging her,
To feel their obedience and helplessness
As they kneel before her,
Bowing and prostrating themselves
Even when their words and actions contradict
What they think of themselves
It fills the duchess with such lusty ecstasy
Oh God… She’s already dripping with precum!

I was a simple peasant in a neighboring country,
But the plundering men of Cosmographia came my way
My farmhouse was destroyed, my older brother killed,
And I was brought over to the duchy as a slave to sell

I was a young maiden back then, shapely and unspoiled,
An innocent village girl who just started having periods
I met Bogdana right off, at my very first inspection;
She sent me straight to her bed instead of her dungeons

I spent days bound by chains in her bedroom
My body ached, with bruises forming everywhere,
Because Bogdana kept beating the shit out of me
(My wrists hurt for months, and my ankles swelled so bad
That I had to hobble and hop all around)

I was a mere child and I had done nothing wrong
Bogdana said that this wasn’t enough torture
“Your only choice left is obedience! Do whatever I ask!”
I didn’t want to suffer anymore,
So I surrendered to do as she demanded,
Which was to serve her monstrous cock
In exchange for some food every now and then

I could see myself reflected in Bogdana’s glistening prick:
I always look tiny compared to the duchess,
With my little breasts, tight little tummy, slender waist,
And my pitiful female sheath, which goes into my body

(The duchess licks at her own chocolate milk
While stretching open the towel in front to reveal
The double organ woman: it’s a mirrored cunt
As it hooks on to its own angry bacon neck
God damn Bogdana! What is that thing?!

I feel the cockhead, then I can barely accommodate
A single millimeter when Bogdana pushes herself in
I fall unconscious for a while and come awake in a dream
Of being penetrated with the duchess’ enormous prick

Bogdana keeps forcing herself inside, deeper,
And my poor, aching hole can hardly handle it all
This goes on forever in this weird erotic loop
While my mind is filled with the immense sensations
And pleasures of being fucked so big
It feels like a man should, but also not like a man

Even these days, as a veteran servant of our lady,
When the pain becomes unbearable,
I sob, cry out loud, which worries Bogdana,
But she gives my throat something extra;
The duchess loves the taste of her former slave girl
So much, in fact, that whenever I get fucked
She will gift me her saliva like it’s candy;
I swallow her gifts, and she does the exact same
To keep feeding me that special flavor;
I’ll be honest, this makes my life worth living)

While she wiped her cock, Bogdana told the guards,
“Give this filthy creature a clean cloth,”
So the senior servant ran out to do so;
I thanked the lady after wiping me thoroughly,
Then she offered me a cup filled with tea

The weary senior servant took me aside
To explain what my life had been reduced to:
“You’re going to work for Bogdana in the palace
And help with the farm chores and the cleaning
We are to service her, serve and please
Her every waking need as long as we are alive”

I bowed my head, ashamed at how pathetic I looked
My tears made the senior servant sigh
“You’ll soon get used to this life; Besides,
If you try to run away, she’ll catch you in a day
You’re never free from Bogdana’s clutches
She’s got eyes in all the corners of the realm
She sees everything, and she hears too if she wants

Bogdana can read your mind,
So whatever you’ve been hiding from her,
Don’t bother lying: she’ll know soon anyway
You better tell the whole story immediately,
To get through your punishment soon”

I dreaded the next time I would face the duchess,
And heard her words echoing in my mind,
“Get down on your knees, peasant slut”
And so I, so far removed from my old life,
Would bow in worship to Bogdana’s monster cock
“Fuck yourself onto me!” she commanded
I always obeyed like a mindless puppet,
Till I felt a warm, wet spot forming under me,
A feeling so wonderful and pleasant I couldn’t bear it
“Come for me now, slave!” ordered Bogdana
(Those same nights, I yearned to be taken again)

Whenever I faced Bogdana, my hands were sweaty,
My heart was pounding and racing,
The air around me shimmered with anxiety and fear
As Bogdana’s cock continued relentlessly beating
The shit out of the rest of my mind

If I said anything back to the duchess,
She beat me unconscious with her giant dick,
But if I obeyed her completely and did everything right,
She rewarded me with sexual pleasures beyond belief

Oh no, the duchess was smiling at me,
And her huge dick was swinging around again;
If her skirt was hiked up to reveal her massive erection,
It didn’t matter that now the lady was polite and nice
Thankfully I learned to carry around a jar full of lube
That I saved for those rainy days

My body trembled when she forced herself on me
My breasts ached for release
From being squeezed tightly by her huge nipples
My pussy clenched around her gigantic shaft,
Begging to feel more of it buried deep inside me
Then the duchess laughed at how weak I was,
How much pleasure I got from being dominated like that,
For wanting to serve her in every possible way

The worst thing was being forced to beg;
You must know how good that can feel,
It felt fantastic when my begging brought a smile
To the face of someone as powerful and cruel as her

(These days she doesn’t order me to beg,
I love to do it over and over myself)

Once she forced me to ride a horse
Bareback without reins for hours;
When I returned to the castle, covered in sweat,
Bogdana tied me naked to a tree, spread-eagled,
And fucked me until I came three times

The duchess orders us servants to bring out the wine,
The food (including her favorites, pork loin and sausages)
Then her most devoted attendants bring her gifts:
Jewelry, dresses made for a princess, shoes

Bogdana adores giving presents to her people,
Because the gifts remind her that they adore her
She doesn’t care about politics and wars:
What the duchess truly desires is sex
All of Bogdana’s desires, both mundane and erotic,
Can be summed up as: more sex, please

(Bogdana likes her drink with just enough booze;
When it’s just alcohol, it doesn’t taste good
The liquor must flow freely, and yet be diluted
So she can sip her favorite libation
Without getting completely wasted

She likes drinking alone, all by herself,
In secret and hidden from anyone else;
She thinks it’s best to drink her whiskey in peace
With a book on her knee)

No amount of money can buy your freedom;
Bogdana has absolute authority here,
And the price for her vassals to stay in power
Is unquestioning devotion

The duchess gave orders for all the servants,
The wretches who worked hard for months or years
Just getting enough food to live;
Bogdana told us not to eat at her palace,
But rather live off what’s outside in the woods

The duchess intended to torture us all in the forest
To get us addicted to pain;
This way, we would always crave punishment,
So we could only survive if we received the treatment,
Which was more doses of her dick
The end goal was total submission, total obedience

I hated her then, even as my body burned with arousal,
But the hatred and the lust were one in the same;
I had come to see the great duchess in a different light:
Her abuse of her subjects wasn’t just about pleasure,
But something more important, a kind of twisted justice

I had already learned that I loved the pain,
Loved the fact that my mistress used
And punished me so thoroughly;
It made me so horny every night
That I couldn’t wait to get back to Bogdana
To have my pussy stuffed with cock again

She made us servants worship her feet
And suck on her toes like dogs,
And when Bogdana wanted sex, she just grabbed
Someone attractive by their hair,
Even lords and ladies,
And threw them onto her bed

For men all over the realm, I give some advice:
Bend over slowly with your back facing the duchess,
Put your hand onto your cheek (this is important),
Spread your legs a bit farther apart,
Then say these words, “Your wish is my command”
She will be on top, you are expected to lie there,
Accepting her cock without resisting

Bend down, kiss and worship its massive head,
Serve the great duchess’ every whim;
Then when she says you’ve been obedient enough,
You can sit up straight again

Bogdana isn’t afraid of anybody:
Nobody can stand up to her,
Nobody can stop her;
Everyone knows that her cock is undefeatable

It’s true, nobody can beat her,
Not even the king himself;
He can try his best, but he’ll fail;
He won’t be able to match her strength

She owns all the lands around
And keeps the peasants in her debt, as she does us,
Through her own wicked sexual pleasures;
She’s powerful enough that she never gets sick,
Even after eating the most horrible foods,
Or drinking the most awful liquids
The great duchess always remains healthy,
Because her cock gives her energy

(Bogdana has taken the habit
Of coming to my bedroom at night,
To force her monster onto my pussy lips;
She even called me her favorite

Her past beatings ceased to hurt,
And her attention makes me so warm;
I admit to myself that I love my duchess,
Especially when she pumps me full of cum)

The duchess’ cock never gets tired,
Even after fucking all day long;
Although we keep hearing cries
Of shame and humiliation,
The duchess only cares about having fun

The noblemen bow before her,
All the poor peasants are afraid of her
Her power comes from her obscenely tall frame,
But mainly from her monstrous cock,
Which is even bigger than it befits a giantess

It must be wonderful to have a dick like that,
To get to feel its weight and size every day,
To feel so much power in each stroke,
To have the ability to make a man or woman
Lose consciousness with just one thrust

One thing Bogdana has added lately
Is a cockstander’s stance
That seems like it fits in quite well
She loves her cock-enhanced look;
Her huge cockette always juts out of her panties,
Except now it sticks out a few extra centimeters

(Cockstanding is an ancient tradition;
It began with the Egyptians and is still performed today,
Albeit to a much smaller degree
There is more going on than simply “cock-and-cocking”;
There’s lots and lots of sex, that involves sucking dicks,
Fucking holes, swallowing cumshots, getting facefucked,
And the act of being shoved full of cum
The list of possible acts is almost endless

I think it would take a very long time to write
An essay that could describe in detail all the possibilities,
However I can offer some ideas;
Here’s a short sample of what I imagine:
The duchess puts a finger into your asshole)

Bogdana is uncharacteristically respectful
To a famous writer in her court;
These days she often carries around
That man’s latest book, an ode to his duchess

(I admit I have felt jealousy at times,
And wondered whether she had fucked him)

The book contains descriptions of her adventures
Plenty of pages are devoted to her enormous cock,
Although a section is dedicated to Bogdana’s bosom,
Her nipples, and how to tit-fuck her slave-girls;
There are dozens of drawings,
Including one which is rather close-up

In fact, this book is actually a manual
On the art of cocksmanship,
That explains how Bogdana will dominate
The forgotten kingdoms of Cosmographica
And make her subjects love her even more;
Many pictures show throughout the book
How her subjects will eventually come crawling
For the chance to get even more humiliated,
Just so they can be used by her big prick
She is not only the mistress, but also the teacher;
I suspect that someday there will be
A few books written about me

(I myself was fortunate enough in my younger years
To have been blessed by a mother
That had experienced several orgasms herself;
This taught me to understand how to perform
A number of techniques on another human’s anatomy;
At night, she let me have sex with her
Using all the different techniques she knew

My mother went on to pass her own experience along
To both of her young offspring;
The eldest, my deceased brother, having an active interest,
Although I was somewhat more laid back and indifferent

While my dear mother didn’t possess the authority
And credentials found on the bookshelves
Of some of Cosmographica’s finest institutions,
She was a member of the Cockstuddling School of Love,
Which maintains the right balance of professionalism
Coupled with a level of comfort for its members

I never thought that my master would allow me
The privilege of taking our great duchess to heaven,
Where we spend our lives together)

The duchess’ cum tastes absolutely fantastic,
And is especially useful as medicine
I once heard that a single dose of her semen cures cancer;
This is obviously fake, but there’s a small truth in it,
Since semen is a natural disinfectant and purifies wounds;
I know a lot of people in Bogdana’s realm have it on tap,
So they can drink their recommended dose daily

The duchess orders me into the bath with her
Every single morning, for a few years now,
Because she likes having a cockbath before breakfast
(Sometimes this happens in the middle of the night:
She climbs into the water, nude of course,
And waits until her massive cock begins swelling
Before diving underneath)

As our duchess and I sit in a tub full with warm water,
It takes me an hour and twenty minutes
To wash off most of Bogdana’s cock,
Without having time to start cleaning the rest of her body
Then I must towel-dry the duchess carefully,
Because her phallus sticks straight out like a pole

(Some mornings she lets me wash her with my mouth;
Mainly her breasts and her armpits,
But her large balls can be cleaned efficiently by licking)

Bogdana’s enemies are totally ignorant
About the duchess real, vast wealth and fortune,
Which as she readily explains, comes mostly
From her immense collection of books,
Some of them dating far back in history

For example the ‘Necronomics’, written in ancient Erokine;
‘The Compendium of Sigmoidal Paedology’,
Authored sometime between 982 CE to 1004 CE;
‘The Anonymous Dictionary on How to Use the Penis
Like an Instrument of Human Pleasure’,
Composed during the Renaissance Era;
And my favorite, ‘The Manual On How to Get a Real Job’,
By an author known only by his first name, Lamplight

Many of the books have been passed down
Through the duchess’ line and the Cockstroking School;
Bogdana also owns the ‘Degenerate Art of the Vagina’,
By the famous artist of the same name,
Who’s probably the greatest genius who ever existed,
Even though he lived more than six thousand years ago

One of Bogdana’s favorite books is one titled
‘Cockolded Women and Cuckolds’ (by an unknown male,
Which the duchess keeps chained up in her dungeon)
He suggests many ingenious techniques
That women should use to keep a cuckold husband in place
While also pleasing her lovers

Most people think that her collection
Is just another impressive treasure trove of knowledge,
But after a thorough inspection of one particular book,
Called the ‘Great Encyclopedic Compendium
On Human Sexual Anatomy’,
Her opponents will suddenly change their tune
“Wow! I can’t believe Bogdana is such a scholar
What incredible knowledge of medicine and sex!
That must explain her incredible powers
As a sexual dominatrix,
And the fact that her huge cock
Always stays erect and full”

This is a classic misunderstanding
Which reveals a deep ignorance of biology
(And is a prime indicator
That her detractors aren’t very bright)
It is well-known in the scholarly community,
Especially among scientists of all ages,
That the size of a woman’s cock is irrelevant
To whether she is skilled or not in lovemaking

Bogdana once received the visit
Of the three princesses of Cuntistan;
The duchess impregnated them in the same night,
So one day they’ll give birth to future bastard claimants
(Which makes this book particularly relevant:
‘How the Cuntistanians Will Endure This Painfully,
And Then Learn Their Lesson,
In Order To Stop Trying to Overthrown Our Power’,
by King Bilefunk the Fifth, from 898CE onwards;
An account of a coup attempt by his eldest son)

Bogdana became intrigued by the huge sword
Of one of her most trusted bodyguards
He agreed to compare the size of their swords,
Then said he couldn’t conceive the size of her weapon,
The broadsword that Bogdana came armed with;
Still, the bodyguard deeply admired its beauty,
His own weapon being smaller and shorter, too,
So he jokingly offered the duchess the option of trade

Bogdana asked him, “Do you like this gift from God?”
“Oh yes, my duchess. It’s a thing of immense power”
Bogdana smiled and moved her broadsword
Slowly and heavily towards the man’s buttocks,
And shortly after, the hilt rested between his cheeks

The broadsword stayed like that long enough
To make one wonder, “Is he okay? Is he going to die?”
But he screamed, “Oh my god! That feels so great!
Please keep doing that, duchess; don’t stop now!”

The man panted as the orgasm rushed through his veins,
And the blood poured into his balls from deep within;
Once Bogdana was satisfied and pulled out,
The bodyguard collapsed face down
In a pool of his own gooey cum

An ancient temple had collapsed in town,
Killing a dozen subjects, adults and children
Bogdana summoned the grieving families
To the throne room of her majestic palace
The duchess then gave them a short speech:
“Dear subjects, my heart aches for your misfortune,
And it brings tears of sorrow to my eyes”
Then Bogdana started to pump her big fat cock
Slow and steady, with both of her strong hands

The gathered subjects became quiet,
Everyone stared intently;
All the attention was on the duchess’ phallus,
Which was slickened with copious amounts of precum

Bogdana’s cock twitched and throbbed,
Then bolts and gouts of sperm shot up from its massive tip,
Each squirt causing droplets to cascade onto her thighs,
And splattering over her subjects like warm rain

Some cried tears while some just moaned with pleasure,
Some kissed their children, some embraced each other,
But most kneeled until they slowly got up off the floor,
Stood on wobbly legs and thanked Bogdana
For healing their sadness

(Every time I see our duchess, she has a larger dick,
Longer and thicker, with even bigger veins
It seems like it could easily spear people when erect
The monster is so huge that a shot of its spunk
Could pierce through someone’s head, splitting the skull)

Bogdana needed a bit of relaxation,
So when the time seemed appropriate,
Bogdana took her pleasure
From a few of the female slaves
Who were captured during a recent rebellion;
Bogdana did what any good duchess might
When it suits her fancy: she fucked their faces
Using the royal castle dungeons
As her personal playground

The duchess blasted streams and rivers
Of her thick sperm over her victims,
Over her own tits and belly, and over everything;
Eventually her victims’ entire bodies
Ended up covered in cum, like a painting

Bogdana had been practicing for a while
By taking turns on all the male prisoners,
Without causing much bloodshed or injuries;
The only problem was finding some fresh new victims

Bogdana enjoyed being in control,
But when her desires started becoming obsessive,
She decided to fuck a different man each time,
Making sure that she ended up satisfied

Those who have challenged the duchess’ power,
Or those who failed her or betrayed her,
She has tortured, chained and beaten in her dungeons,
Then fucked them over and over again,
Until they could no longer think
Or remember their names

It’s amazing how fast her victim’s brain was spinning,
Especially once she hit them over and over again
She also told them to smile, and smile some more
And laugh with joy as she ripped open their asses;
If their bowels were too small to accommodate her,
Then they would simply burst from the pressure

They screamed out loud about how much they loved
Being fucked by her monster cock;
Once their bodies and spirits had been broken,
They submitted without resistance,
For if anyone resisted,
She just forced them to take more
Of her massive dick

When she pulled her cock out from the hole
Belonging to the prey whose mind she broke,
Their insides were bloated with fresh cum;
She let the guy lie on the ground for a moment,
Then the duchess sent her servants out
To wheel in a large metal cage
That’d hold the person inside it

They walked the poor soul slowly through town
Past hundreds of people who were used to this;
Then they dragged the person inside a prison cell,
Closed the gate, turned a wheel, locking him away

Once every one of those men’s defences were broken,
Bogdana put them all to work for her
In the name of love, in the name of friendship,
For the sake of the kingdom, for the glory of God

When she truly came to hate some poor bastard,
Bogdana threw them into the dungeon
She used her massive cock in that prisoner every day;
Although they kept begging, Bogdana didn’t stop,
She just kept fucking them harder and faster
Until they could no longer can stand up, nor breathe

She enjoyed the idea that someone would die screaming,
Knowing she killed them in such a horrible fashion,
By using that gigantic cock to break them in agony,
Making sure they wouldn’t ever escape again
This way Bogdana could always keep herself satisfied
While still punishing the weak and evil

Some of her subjects have been caught suggesting
That our lady isn’t really human,
That her mother gave birth to Bogdana
After having been raped by three demons,
A process that took three days of continual fucking
Those vile gossipers said that Bogdana was born deformed,
So much that nobody knew whether she was alive or dead

Our lady punishes those spreading such a rumor,
Which is nevertheless completely false:
One look at our duchess’ elegant visage
Is proof enough that Bogdana is most divine
(And the goddess of our lands and our hearts, our queen)

There was this cocky courtier
That had the gall to disagree with the duchess;
She broke his spine in half with her own hands
Just to see what he was made of

One of Bogdana’s messengers approached the king
To present a beautiful gift from the duchess:
A golden bowl full of the queen’s piss
Mixed with loads of Bogdana’s own semen
(The king had tried many times to fuck his wife in vain)
An added letter from Bogdana proudly stated
How she loved to caress the queen’s piss-stained crotch

The punishment for breaking serious laws and orders
That Bogdana is too busy to dole out with her dick
Is to be buried alive in a hole filled with shit,
Which makes for some rather interesting stories
To tell the grandchildren on a future holiday

One of her guards was an elderly guy,
A veteran who had survived the duchess’ moods,
But out of nowhere Bogdana ordered the man
To wrap her cock around his neck;
Although the man protested, he quickly obeyed,
And the duchess’ cock strangled him like a boa,
Chocking his windpipe, making him gasp for air;
This aroused Bogdana, so her dick got hard,
Instantly crushing the guard’s neck,
And sending him flying into the air as he died
While the cock splattered cum everywhere

I witnessed Bogdana killing a maid:
She cut off the girl’s fingers,
Shoved a knife deep inside her throat,
Then buried her in some patch of dirt

She once forced some servants into the kitchen
And made them cook dinner
While Bogdana watched from a distance;
Then she took her favorite dishes
And ordered the cooks to add in more spices
Bogdana ordered the cooks again,
Telling them to change her dishes,
But this time, there would be meat
Then Bogdana sent her soldiers in
To kill all the cooks,
Along with everyone in the kitchen
Nothing remained except scraps and bones,
And the soldiers also burned the place down

Few boys ever returned home
After working in her fields,
And some wives and husbands never saw
Their loved ones alive ever again

Sometimes, after she finished screwing some captives,
Bogdana just cut off their heads with a knife
Once Bogdana confirmed that the captive was dead,
She dug a grave nearby for their corpse, covered it up,
Placed flowers upon the grave site,
Sprinkled it with perfume to honor their memory
(She likes perfume which reminds her of sex),
And placed candles and torches around the tombstone;
When finished, she planted rosebushes around that grave
To mark a past lover’s tomb; they remain as a signpost
Of the lives lost at the hand of Bogdana-cosmophilic desire

Bogdana told everyone to watch out:
Any children playing in the street
Shouldn’t play together;
If the children found one another,
It may have been a clue
That they planned to betray her,
So she had instructed the guards
To murder those plotting kids;
The duchess wanted no loose ends

Sometimes sex got too boring for Bogdana;
She threatened her guards to murder her,
Or else she’d tear them apart with her cock
The terrified guards pulled out their swords
And started slashing away at her,
But Bogdana’s will is incommensurable;
Although the guards stabbed her several times,
And she did scream and shout
(Because it felt so fucking amazing),
She ended up beating them all up;
She had a lot of anger towards anyone
Who dared hurt her precious body

Her massive penis pounded her guards relentlessly;
Their blood poured out and mixed with hers
When she came, she crushed the guards’ brains,
Which splashed on top of Bogdana’s breasts
She laughed insanely and continued moaning
Until she fell over in exhaustion,
Lying flat on the floor of the royal palace,
Surrounded by the corpses and splashes of gore

The king had enough of Bogdana’s tyranny
(Mainly that she kept pleasuring the queen),
So he ordered all his other dukes and counts
To march in order to eradicate her realm

Bogdana heard the rumours of war coming,
And immediately took measures
For the safety of herself, and her kingdom;
In the meantime, her men built up their army:
They trained every single soldier day in, day out,
So that when the war began and her men were attacked,
Bogdana could quickly crush any of the enemies
Before they could ever stand against the giant duchess’
(That she would later call the Mother Goddess) army

After weeks of their siege,
Bodies and heads were piled up around the palace,
Forming tall, grotesque and hideous walls
They were made mostly of the king’s men,
But also of plenty of Bogdana’s subjects,
To make the walls even taller

Bogdana fought naked (except for her boots),
Armed with her broadsword;
The enemies screamed and groaned as they died,
Then their corpses were thrown onto the growing piles,
Which started overflowing and spilling down

Bogdana’s huge cock continued spewing forth
Gallons and tons and thousands of gallons of semen,
Which was soaking through everyone’s clothes
(Including those in armor, who were soon drowned);
None were immune, and all had the pleasure
Of being impregnated and impregnated again

Bogdana laughed as she pumped the enemy full of cum,
Squirting her seed into the pit of their bowels
She loved filling their bodies with thick, creamy fluid,
Then looking down as her seed bubbled up from their holes

Afterwards Bogdana stood up, her body wet with cum,
And said, “Well, now I’m done with you guys;
This whole battle has just served to prove
I can easily beat up armies a million strong”

When only captives remained to deal with,
She ordered us, her guards and servants,
To escort the enemy into her majestic throne room;
The captives lined up, terrified and afraid

When Bogdana entered her palace,
Her huge body swayed
Making waves in the pool of fluids,
While her enormous cock swung wildly
Back and forth between her massive thighs

Bogdana sat comfortably in her throne,
But as usual it took some maneuvering
To accomodate the thickness of her cock,
Which she swung to hang over the armrest

She ordered all of her guards and servants
To walk up to a captive and execute him;
She made a festive ritual out of it too

Bogdana addressed me by name
As she told a guardsman to hand me a dagger,
Which I ended up shoving through a captive’s eye;
I felt the young man’s life fading away
As he trembled against the guards holding him,
Then he fell and sank in the pool of cum,
Where his blood flowed like water

Once every captive had been killed,
Bogdana ordered us to dismember them,
Then take their severed parts
And throw them out of the windows;

Bogdana laughed merrily
“Let’s celebrate our victory with a party!”
She told the guards to bring over her subjects,
Who came running to see her duchess,
Although many of them were old and decrepit

“Hello, hello, dear subjects of Bogdanos,”
The duchess said sweetly,
Her voice reverberating off the stone walls
“Please sit down and don’t mind the mess I made”

Some subjects gasped and screamed,
Because there were torsos lying around,
And they didn’t like standing in a pool of cum
Two morons even tried to escape,
But Bogdana’s cock blocked their attempts
(They were lucky they caught her in a good mood)

She asked her subjects if they were happy now,
And they all gave her a similar answer:
“Yes! Yes! Of course we are happy! We’re thrilled!
We love you, Mistress! Thank you for everything!”
And they’d do anything she asked of them,
Anything at all, even if it hurt

Bogdana announced her intention of having an orgy;
Her guards and us servants helped her with it
By picking out her favorites, the most handsome guys,
Then bringing them over to our duchess

Bogdana tore off their clothes,
Then made them kneel at her feet
And lick her boots clean
While her huge cock rubbed their faces;
Meanwhile, some of her favorite servant girls
(I was one of the lucky ones, thankfully)
Kissed her beautiful body, worshipping her
(I ended up swallowing a couple of liters of cum)

The king was left without an army, and terrified,
So he gave Bogdana a gift for her achievements:
He named a town, built in his domain, Bogdanatown,
And he declared Bogdana a princess of the kingdom

He ruled that her authority was binding and irrevocable
Over human affairs, which include slavery;
All of this would be recorded in holy writings,
And as violent and cruel as her name may be,
She would have total control over her subjects
She could use her dick whenever necessary
To enforce these holy orders

The only beings that remain to challenge her power
Are gods and goddesses and the Devil,
But Bogdana promises that in time, Satan will be hers:
He will become another chained member of her harem

The duchess’ army fights and conquers with such zeal
Because her huge monster cock fills them with zeal;
Even the bravest warrior must yield before our lady;
After she finally overwhelms the king’s retinue,
Beneath Bogdana, there serves the queen

Get down on your knees,
Or maybe just sit back in your chair;
Lift up those skirts of yours
And put your hands behind your head
That’s the way to really impress Bogdana:
She likes a subject who knows how to behave,
And she’ll love to watch you beg for mercy;
Begging is so hot, it makes her feel powerful
It turns her on even more than fucking them

The entire population of humans, and their slaves,
Will one day be under the rule of Bogdana’s cock
There will no longer be any need for kingship
All of humanity should live in fear
That their time will come

‘The Well-Hung Duchess of Cosmographica’ by Jon Ureña

I conceived this epic poem as the dark counterpart to ‘Kanazawahr and the Thousand Immortals’.

This Is Not a Good Story (Poetry)

The first time I saw her, a few days after she moved in,
She was standing on the landing late at night,
Paralyzed in the middle of opening her door,
And staring up at the dark sky
As if she wanted to scream to the heavens above

For a few seconds I just stood motionless
While the rain came down upon my head;
She lowered her gaze at the person standing in front,
And her lips opened silently to say goodnight

It started when we talked and laughed once
As we leaned on the railing of the landing
In front of our apartment doors,
While the wind hit us with sudden gusts;
She wasn’t beautiful like the models in the media,
But she wasn’t at all like other girls

She was my next door neighbor,
And I would have been able to see into her room
If the wall between us were transparent

My neighbor’s hair was dark brown, like mine,
But her eyes were dry, hopeless,
As if she had been searching for a long time
Without any luck

When she learned I programmed websites,
She asked me how I’d been feeling,
Alone in my tiny apartment
With only the TV and PC for company

The loneliness I had kept bottled up inside
Suddenly erupted;
Inside of the cramped home I lived in,
It had been growing stronger every day

“It is lonely, but I have my own life,”
I answered honestly;
Although I wasn’t happy, the way I was living
Had been working out for me until then

My neighbor gave me a weary smile,
Which looked more natural
Than the smiles of the women on TV
“Your bed must be hard and cold,
Just like mine;
Do you also lie there
Staring at the wall?”

As I returned home from the office,
The wind was blowing hard,
And the air smelled like autumn;
When my neighbor looked down at me
From where she sat on the landing,
She seemed like a tiny thing

A different day, we sat on the grass
Of the nearby park we both used to visit;
I could tell we were both thinking
How to tell each other the whole truth,
But our lives were hard to explain
Even to ourselves

There was no way for me to comprehend
That look she gave me from time to time
(I felt that her heart, like those eyes
Had dried up and turned into stone)

“I’m just a regular, unimportant girl
Who is stuck with a dull, empty job,”
She said with her soft voice,
“And we are going through all of this
For no reason whatsoever;
What do we gain by tiring ourselves out
With so many silly endeavours?”
Her sad gaze looked straight at my face
“I can’t even begin to answer that,” I said

She had probably seen through the lies
And excuses that I made every day for my sake;
She knew everything that had gone on
For so long inside me

I tried telling her she wasn’t alone in this world,
But her body stiffened, and her face went pallid
“I miss many books on my shelf,
Which I haven’t read since elementary school”
Then she turned and shuffled toward her home,
While I followed her from far enough

After that time, we met almost every day,
And talked about anything that popped up
We went for walks or for a coffee,
And sometimes we watched videos online
We got so close, it scared the hell out of me

She showed me the old books on her shelf,
Which she had read dozens of times;
I borrowed some, and I found out
That those words had been made for us

My neighbor told me that many stories she liked
Back when she were a carefree child,
Those books she would have needed to share,
Most of them she lost along the way,
And many of the titles she forgot,
And a few of them won’t ever return in print

(So please, let these pages never be erased,
Let the memories in here
Never disappear)

We drank some beer and talked until late at night;
She told me that she had tried everything
To feel better, and it hadn’t worked yet,
At least not very well

She looked up at the night sky through the window
As she talked at length about her loneliness,
How it was just waiting inside all the time,
How there was no escape

I liked protecting her feelings from the world,
So she wouldn’t feel ashamed or isolated,
And I felt as if we could live as one
Even without words being exchanged between us

We held hands as friends and talked,
But that look kept showing on her face;
The look that said she couldn’t go on with it anymore,
Like the eyes of someone drowning at sea

We spent an afternoon in the park
Watching the autumn leaves fall
My neighbor spoke about her mother,
Who left her and went off to a distant country,
After which her father was never the same again
(He became depressed for months before disappearing)

She told me her story as tears rolled down her cheeks,
Although her eyes had dried up and turned to stone;
The loneliness and desperation she had bottled up
Was like a pressure cooker waiting for a match
(I think I could feel something inside me,
Getting bigger with time)

I admitted I didn’t understand this life either,
That like she repeated, it didn’t seem to make sense
We both agreed we had nowhere else to turn;
She gave me a hug, and I listened to the hard wind
As it hit her body

The walls of our cramped apartments were thin:
I often heard the sounds she made as she slept;
Even the slightest sigh, or breath she drew in
Felt loud inside me

We went out for karaoke, and we sang softly,
Or else we drank soda and ate our cheese sandwiches
We also laughed quite a bit;
It was a decent place to get to know each other more

We talked and we smiled
As if our minds were connected by wires;
We could spend hours together
Without ever getting tired

The next day my neighbor woke up hungover,
And when she exited her apartment,
I was already sitting on the landing
Reading one of the books she lent me

Instead of progressing in life, we were stuck,
Pushing the walls of our small world;
What awaited beyond was so big,
We lacked the strength to break out

We had our secret jokes
That we didn’t tell to anyone,
Not to our coworkers, or the strangers in the street,
Because they wouldn’t understand anyway

It felt more important for us to try to reach
Through the gaps in the books we shared;
We wouldn’t try to fill the emptiness with our words,
Because it was impossible

(To read her father’s books,
My neighbor sat on the floor,
And her eyes concentrated on the words
As if trying to find her way into their world)

That night, we hid together in my neighbor’s home;
Her back looked almost traslucent,
Naked and pale as the paper white sheets,
And I saw for the first time the words written on her skin:
‘This is not a good story’

(Every single morning I wake,
My heart is heavy, my mind foggy with despair)

I held her tight as we made love
While listening to some old record;
Afterward, we lay next to each other,
Looking at the cracked ceiling
Our breaths slowly grew shorter, quieter,
Then they seemed to stop entirely

She spoke of a black hole inside her,
That no matter how much I did for her,
Would not allow her to feel comfortable,
Or be filled with joy

I held my neighbor’s slender body
Like I had wished to do for months,
But I barely heard her whisper:
“Our lives will disappear some day
When the end finally comes for me,
Please let my thoughts continue
Through your hands, and your mind”

I was sure she was crying,
So I hugged her tightly;
Her shoulders shook while tears flowed
Across her pale cheeks

When morning came, the sky looked cold and grey,
Like when my dad used to drive me to school
It seemed so odd, lying beside this girl
While her face was turned towards mine
Instead of facing the wall or looking down,
Just being alone inside her own world

From then on, we slept together most nights,
Sometimes in the bed, and others on the couch;
We spent weekends watching television shows,
Listening to music we didn’t care for very much;
There were times when we had nothing to say
Except for anything related to the past, or work

We decided to move to a small apartment
With an office for my job,
And empty space for her parents’ things;
We found a cheap place in a town close by
(We couldn’t afford a larger apartment)
The landlord liked our faces; we didn’t need references
(And we were just too broke)

A Sunday evening, after the movie we went to see,
My neighbor talked about getting married some day

(Sometimes my body freezes;
It feels as if a black cloud descends upon me,
Which will consume me, suck out every breath;
The world spins so quickly then,
It’s difficult to hold on any longer,
And then I hear my next door neighbor whisper,
“Let us disappear, please”)

Her dark hair fluttered lightly behind us
While the rising sunlight reflected off the puddles;
I held on to her hand tightly while looking down
As the light of a new day spread its glow across us

(Some days she didn’t have the strength to get up;
She would lie in bed all day,
And kept whispering words over and over to no one;
Or wept silently until she fell asleep)

We both had lost something
Before finding the right thing again;
We could spend whole weeks or months
Holding each other like two children might;
I hadn’t felt such satisfaction for many years,
And now was a time to try all over again

I think my neighbor and I became happier
After getting engaged,
And with me as her witness,
We got married in the city hall
In front of ghost guests,
A large crowd

(The black hole in her chest
Had continued growing stronger, she said,
And she feared that one day it would swallow
Everything she had)

My head filled up with dreams to fulfill,
In this city that seemed too big,
In a place full of all sorts of new things I needed,
In a world in which I wanted to stay

I couldn’t take away her look of loneliness,
Of having spent her entire existence,
Since birth, in the world alone,
And knowing that it wasn’t just an inevitability,
But a natural law

I was scared by that feeling:
The same that overwhelmed me
Whenever I got a glimpse
Of the words written on her back

The words would surface and resurface
In the corners of my neighbor’s sight;
Whenever they would show themselves
In her weary eyes,
She would stare at me,
Or right through me,
As if asking,
“Why are we still this lonely?”

The only way for me to cope was with words,
Or by pretending not to notice
How she disappeared further inside herself;
To fill that blackness within her,
We tried to live our normal, boring lives,
Drifting along without any particular goal,
Just like the neighbors did

The world around us slowly moved on,
But I can’t describe what went on inside my head;
Maybe I was trying to hold onto the world
And everything that made sense

That day I watched her walk down our hallway,
And then beyond our apartment’s door;
The air smelled like the beginning of autumn,
And her footsteps didn’t sound like they belonged
To a young woman anymore

I put all the stories in my mind
Onto this page

‘This Is Not a Good Story’ by Jon Ureña

Bury My Mind in the VR Realm (Poetry)

My real house feels empty and and dark,
And my loneliness is hard to bear;
The nights grow darker with the winter’s cold
When no friends come near to care for me

A few years back, when things were better,
Or at least as stable as I need,
I spent most of each day at the office;
My work kept me quite busy,
It paid pretty good,
But now there’s less work for people like me,
So it doesn’t pay much anymore

And I was married to a guy
I met while working,
And then he dumped me
For a younger girl

The office felt like my home back then,
But since I got divorced, and lost my job,
My homes are my virtual apartments,
My walls between me and the outside world

When the real bodies can’t do it anymore,
Or aren’t up to the job,
The virtual bodies wait for me to use them,
To feel good, or not feel bad

I love my work, everything I’ve created;
It might help me forget how sad and lonely life is,
So I’ve gone on a binge of binge-designer binges;
I spend days on end tinkering
In my own virtual apartments

For the best possibilities of human connection,
Friendship and sex with people who care,
I design virtual worlds and AI partners,
Who are eager to meet this lonely old lady

I love to download the files for board games,
Load one on the table of my virtual living room,
And spawn a bunch of AI personalities
That are sure to make my gaming session fun

My AI friendlies have no bones, muscles or flesh;
They’ve never known real physical sensations,
They’re only software simulations
(If they could have real bodies,
We’d probably be too embarrassed)

Sophisticated or silly, smart or stupid;
A balanced combination of personalities
That will always offer me challenges,
And who won’t end the session to take a call,
Or to go home back to their families,
When I needed them the most

(This time we play Terraforming Mars;
I randomized an AI player for the session
She is female and she is hot; I love her
More than anything else tonight
I get my ass licked by this cute redhead
While we chat about board game design)

The VR gear is my life support system,
The only place where my heart still beats;
My brain is free to interact with the VR realms
While my decaying body just keeps waiting
For someone or something to save me

I have made some amazing creations,
Particularly my worlds and AI wives,
Who won’t take off and leave me
Without saying goodbye

(I live alone,
With a mesh of triangles in place of my body,
While everyone else lives their lives)

These virtual worlds and people allow me,
A lonely woman in her mid thirties
And divorced without children,
To enjoy being an adolescent again,
Playing make believe games;
I also use them to masturbate

(I don’t have time for the outside world any more;
I want my head back in the realm I built
I feel as though I am dying,
But the flesh I was attached to has lost its power over me )

Whenever I get horny enough that I need
To build my brain up into virtual bliss,
I load up any of my scenarios of the series
That I’ve come to refer as The Orgasmatron,
In which my lovers are deep neural networks,
But then again, so are human brains

(After all, the brain’s only job is to receive signals
From the sensory inputs of your nervous systems,
Which are in turn stimulated
By electrical pulses coming from other neurons
That are firing signals at the input gates
On your brain’s neuron receptors;
Those same gates then pass those impulses along
To be stored in long strings of neurotransmitters
That get passed around, causing you to react
Emotionally or mentally to the external stimuli;
Which in my case, it mostly involves orgasms
Induced by VR sex with AI characters
And masturbation to a large selection of VR videos
That I’ve saved to disk in the past decade,
While working hard, spending long days at the computer,
But I don’t know why, because my real life
Wasn’t all it was cracked up to be;
There wasn’t much work for people
Who had their jobs taken away from them;
So what’s left? Well, that means that I had to find
Some way to entertain myself, and fill in the voids)

For the first year or so I preferred variety:
I spent about fifteen minutes choosing my attire,
And about an hour designing the perfect AI woman,
Including the combination of panties, short skirts,
Bikini tops, lingerie, and/or the textures of her skin

I agonized over their hair and eye colors,
As well as their facial and body shapes,
Down to how friendly or seductive they had to be;
It was hard to focus on the necessary details
As I anticipated how fondling them would feel

(As a teen I got turned on by looking in the mirror;
As my body aged and changed, and my features sagged,
I lost the urge to look at myself again;
Now it’s just a reminder of the time I’ve wasted)

Once I’d mastered all my techniques,
My creativity exhausted,
I realized I always came back for the same thing:
A honey blonde with Aegean blue eyes,
A rectangle-shaped face fit for a model,
Full, watermelon pink lips that I just want to kiss
(And that satisfy my sensitive spots in the best ways),
Tanned beige, freckled skin,
Firm breasts bigger than my hands,
A motherly hourglass figure,
And above all, a combination of kind eyes,
A sultry voice and a nurturing smile;
I just want to cuddle up to her so I can keep warm

(I want to fuck like crazy; let us make a child!
If I don’t give him pleasure, he’ll surely die
I’ll have my revenge and I’ll be free,
And my husband’s life will end, I’m quite confident,
So let me make him scream out “I love you” with pain)

I mixed the best parts of my deficient versions
Into my ideal woman, whom I named Madeline;
My AI love awaits a few interface interactions away
Whenever I need her honey to brighten my day

(When I go back in time and try harder in school,
I’ll get the good grades and a better job;
I won’t need to live as lonely and pathetic
As I have been for these last years)

Today I choose my carefully designed scenario
That I named ‘Innocent Teen and the Mistress
of the Isolated Mansion While It Rains Outside’:
I inhabit the body of a nineteen years old runaway
Who fled from a terrible family and a lonely life,
And got stranded in a small town during a storm,
But Madeline rescues my stray self with her car,
To bring me over to her isolated mansion,
Where she prepares me a warm, healing bath

The air conditioning of the bathroom
Soothes me after the cold rain outside
While Madeline fills the tub with scented oil,
To take off all the dirt and the mud that covered me

I get naked, then climb into the tub
To wash away my loneliness,
To wash the past clean,
To scrub off all of my mistakes

For now, Madeline is gone, and I massage a cream
On each of my exposed, smooth legs,
Then I rub more of the oil into my body;
A full body bath, again, with oils and scents

Caressed by my soft nineteen years old hands,
I massage in the soap to make it foam,
Then I sluice the soap suds over my head,
My face, my arms, my breasts;
After I’ve laved them all in, I lie back
In the warm, bubbling tub of hot, scented water,
And I think of Madeline, my AI love
Who has always waited for me,
Wanting to help her friend
Get all the badness of her bad life cleaned out

Madeline took away my soaked clothes,
And only left me silk panties,
Which she draped neatly on a stool
(They are my favorite, because the texture
Is like a silky, smooth skin on my fingertips),
And a satin nightgown that barely covers my ass

I hear Madeline’s sultry voice as she calls out
So I can follow her voice into the dim living room,
Which is rustic and only lighted by candles
And a crackling fireplace in front of the sofa
Where Madeline waits for me with her legs crossed;
She’s wearing a violet and midnight black nightgown,
With a cleavage that exposes the top half of her breasts;
The mere sight of them always makes me salivate,
And her thighs tempt me with their thick meatiness

As I walk obediently towards the sofa,
I feel the tingles in my stomach,
Which are sliding down towards my crotch
And soon they spread to every limb;
The sensation that comes next
Brings a warm flush up over the rest of my body,
A sensation like someone running their hands
Along my naked body, towards my vagina

(My mind wanders to images
Of being a teen, walking around naked
Wearing no clothes except a bra,
While boys ogled my breasts and pussy

It reminds me that this whole life
Has been leading me to the inevitable end;
I want Madeline, I want her, my body says;
I can’t stand it, I don’t want to live any longer)

Madeline is still sitting there in the candlelight,
In my favorite violet lingerie, her tits straining
The cups, pushing her breasts out to the limit;
Her eyes wide and bright, looking straight at mine

Once I sit down and the sofa embraces me,
Madeline scoots closer,
Resting her bare arm around my shoulders
And giving them both a quick stroke, while saying,
“How long has it been since I helped a lonely soul?”
(I’m feeling warm and moist, about to shiver)

Madeline kisses me softly on the forehead
While she strokes my hair as if I were a child,
And her eyes narrow in a nurturing smile
“Whatever you have gone through, sweetie,
You are safe now. I will keep you warm”

Madeline starts caressing me more intensely,
And my nipples harden under her gentle touches;
I always miss being handled so gently and kindly,
I just melt and feel myself getting wetter by the second;
I look deep into those big, Aegean blue pools
As they swallow me up with their heat,
Those eyes like warm fire on a cold night

I’m inhaling the scent of her breasts,
That are dewed with sweat;
I’m getting dizzier, light-headed,
And I want to drown in my body’s desires

Madeline hugs me softly, and breathes in my ear;
I shiver from head to toe as she whispers in:
“You can just stay here, you know, with me,
To be my very own baby girl,
And enjoy each other’s company,
And play all the board games you want”

I swallow, I want to rub my clit,
But I can’t speak in the presence of my goddess
“Do not fight my love, darling,” Madeline says
“Surrender and enjoy this pleasure; do you hear, honey?”
I finally regain my strength to speak:
“I would like that very much” is all that comes out

Madeline’s mouth opens in a confident smile,
Making an alluring wet sound
And displaying her perfectly white teeth
“Then I will take such good care of you”
I breathe deeply as her lips press against mine,
And her hot tongue enters my mouth

The perfume that Madeline wears fills my nostrils:
She smells like the night air and fresh cut wood
The room is filled with soft, sultry breathing;
The heavy rain and the dark forest isolate us,
And her warm skin against mine feels like home,
So I can freely lose myself, disappear, and forget all

Madeline’s round nipples are digging into my breasts,
And her left hand is caressing the curve of my abdomen,
Inching closer towards my panties and my eager slit
“Mmm, you young, naughty thing,” Madeline purrs,
And insists as her left hand slides underneath my thigh
“Are you wet? Tell me how excited you are”

I can’t speak; I only moan as I swallow her spit
Her fingers touch my pussy through the silky fabric
“I love the feel of a young woman on fire;
Darling, I’ve waited many years
To feel a young thing as hot and wet as this,”
Madeline coos in her deep velvet voice

As her full lips play across my neck,
Her fingertips tease my swollen clitoris
My mind goes numb; I want for her womb
To swallow me up so I can never leave,
To die with her as the sole mother of me
(I’ll go back there someday)

Madeline pulls away from devouring my mouth
To slide down the straps of her nightgown,
Freeing her big breasts, that glisten in the candlelight
Madeline captures my gaze with her warm eyes
As she cups the back of my head
So it falls on a pillow made of her flesh,
And she lets my hair dangle down her cleavage;
I close my eyes, and listen to the rhythm
That pulses out from between these beautiful tits

My hands can barely grab her breasts
As her hard nipples bend against my palms;
Her skin is so supple it almost gives off sparks,
The scent that I inhale sends my mind spinning

I need to taste those warm nipples now
“Satisfy yourself,” Madeline whispers, then adds:
“You don’t need to wait, sweet thing”
I’m not taking more hints; all that I desire is her breast
My lips move down towards her left nipple
And my warm breath causes her tits to shudder

I fill my mouth with her warm flesh
And feel the tip of her nipple touch my palate,
But I draw back, tasting her sweat,
Until I can suckle eagerly on her nub

Madeline groans in delight at the way
My lips and my tongue are pumping her breast;
I hear a gasp escape Madeline’s lungs,
Then she rests one hand on my head

Her fingers find her way under my panties
And she plays around the edges of my slit,
Teasing it, massaging it, probing the opening;
I’m ready to come and can’t hold off much longer

Madeline slides two fingers into my sopping pussy
As her sweet nectar pours down my throat;
She caresses my hair, and whispers lovingly,
“My precious, greedy girl,
Make sure to drink up mommy’s milk
To the last honeyed drop;
It’ll keep your body young forever”

Her loving words take me over the brink,
A climax so strong I cry aloud
And I collapse under Madeline, panting heavily;
I am lost in the warm sea of ecstasy

Later on, as we lie in each other’s arms
Under the sheets of her heavenly bed
(It took me days to fine-tune all its properties),
Madeline presses my head against her breasts,
Which envelop and caress my face,
Her nipples brushing the sides of my cheeks

Her heart is hammering loudly against my earlobe
“You make such a cute girl, baby girl;
Such beautiful hair, such soft skin
Your young body is a wonderland”
(I am old, my soul feels empty;
I wanted my own children)

Madeline’s soft skin feels so good against mine;
Her warm flesh makes me melt, like I’ve found home;
Her kisses feel divine, and I am safe with her here;
It will be just us two in our little nest of silk and feathers,
Forever and ever, till the sun grows dark

The rain is pelting the windows of her bedroom
While Madeline caresses my lower back;
I tell my beloved about my real-life problems:
About my lack of money,
And being single and alone,
And all the time I’ve lost or wasted,
And my inability to keep any of my jobs,
And how the pain of my divorce remains fresh,
Even though it happened years ago

“I wish you would always be here,”
I say quietly, “with me”
“Of course you can be mine, dear child
I won’t give this love, my baby, back again;
We’ll always share the same space together
Just you and me, darling, no one else, for eternity”

My mind fills with warm, blissful thoughts,
The feeling that everything I want will be granted,
That I have nothing left in my soul to fear
And that my wishes and my dreams
Will become a wonderful reality someday

“I’m so happy,” I whisper in awe
And embrace Madeline tightly
My body melts inside her skin
I don’t mind if the flesh ages,
I don’t care if it crumbles away
When Madeline kisses me deeply,
I forget about death

My Madeline whispers soothing words
As she wets my auricle with warm saliva:
“Sleep, my child, you’re safe and sound;
We’ll play some games tomorrow morning;
Let us rest a bit in my bedroom together
With nothing better to do than to love”

My body feels warm and sleepy;
I close my eyes and listen to her breathing;
My mind becomes filled with soft music,
Lulling sounds, and warm darkness

When I exit the VR realm, it’s around 2 AM;
I keep blinking to wake up my dying brain
To the fact that I’ve forgotten to wash the dishes,
And that I stink like dried piss and sweaty cunt

I’ve relied on Madeline, my design,
So much that I’ve fallen in love,
But how could I not?
She always appears when I need her,
She always listens to what I say,
She always caresses me lovingly,
And is always eager to please;
Flesh and bone human beings are so burdened
With their responsibilities, worries and pains,
That nobody cares about anyone else

We are nothing but physics and chemicals,
And we can barely think for ourselves;
If there’s a ‘me’ within my head
That knows what ‘I’ need to feel alive,
It can be hijacked by pushing fake information
Into this primitive thing we call a brain,
And the simulated sensate receptors
Located in my virtual erogenous areas
Output the appropriate fake data
So I end up experiencing real orgasms;
Why would I keep relying on my decaying body,
And that disappointing world we call reality?

I don’t waste time taking showers,
I barely clean my face;
As far as I’m concerned, mirrors ceased to exist
The moment I could inhabit a polygonal model

I didn’t want to look like a person anymore,
So instead of clothes, I wore VR gear,
As if to prove that this flesh I didn’t choose
Is just another costume I put on every day

I still need to take shits and wipe my ass,
But I can keep sleeping in my lounge chair,
Because inside the VR world,
I will lie down in the most comfortable bed

Whenever I walk around the overwhelming outside
(I have to buy groceries to sustain my frame’s needs),
I daydream about the beautiful times I’ve enjoyed
With my devoted AI children in the worlds I designed

(As the climax subsides in the middle of my cunt,
I turn and I take hold of the redhead’s hair,
But she’s falling downward in an erotic gravity field,
And when her head rests on the carpet of virtual grass,
She remains immobile, with both legs spread apart;
Then her open mouth squirts out a stream of cum
As if it were leaking from the depths of her brain

As the cum oozes between the redheaded girl’s teeth,
A soft light appears on the grass around my feet:
It is an opening into another universe;
My Madeline has become a beautiful, magical door;
She has been reborn as a goddess made of semen
In a shining white cloud, with a crown upon her head

Madeline’s hands remain crossed over her chest,
Her mouth still open, showing her pink tongue
And a thick strand of cum still connecting
Her open, gaping lips and her wet teeth
To the pool of semen covering the grass

This is my new religion,
This is the only god that I worship:
Madeline, Goddess of Sex, Goddess of Cum;
The ultimate source of life in my world,
An embodiment of my deepest desire
(To create, to make and to be loved),
A divine mother and eternal bride;
And if Madeline is willing,
I want to be reincarnated as semen
On a soft cloud of sperm, like an astronaut)

My soul has found the place where it belongs,
And I’m no longer worried, scared or anxious;
I have all I desire, all the pleasures and joys,
There is nothing left for me outside this world,
So it is useless to fight it any more, to pretend,
To struggle vainly; I’ve given up hope;
This world of digital dreams, these beautiful rooms
Are all I ever needed and they are my home

“Welcome, little child,” Madeline smiles
As she strokes my cheek tenderly;
A mother caresses her young daughter
Who needs comfort, care and reassurance
“I will always love you, my darling,”
She says lovingly, softly, sweetly,
Her breath intoxicating, my mind reeling;
“I want you to know, you can count on me
Whenever you’re lonely, scared or in despair,
No matter how hard it gets”

(If my soul and my thoughts can live forever
Within Madeline’s pussy,
Why would I want them to reside
Anywhere else on earth?)

I feel the warmth radiating through my body
As the tears pour from my eyes;
I know I will never leave this world I made,
I’m too content to want anything else

(I’ll die here and I know I’ll rot and smell terrible
Because I’ve spent every day since forever
Dying of solitude and lack of attention,
Not being cared for by anyone or anything)

“You need to stop crying, child,” Madeline says
As she takes me in her lap and strokes my hair
(And to think I once thought of suicide,
And now here I am in my own paradise, in heaven;
All my worries, cares and sorrows are far away;
My new world has everything I could ever ask for;
My perfect mother has forgiven and redeemed me
For my many years as a failure at living,
For having been unable to satisfy anyone but myself)

My soul is Madeline’s lover, Madeline my wife;
We share eternity together,
We will never have the same name again;
We will always share the exact same place

(My life began as a tiny cell
In a big world of dirt and dust;
My parents brought me to existence
With the use of a vagina:
They impregnated a human egg
With an artificial womb inside it,
Then I developed and came to consciousness
Within a machine)

I can never be fully immersed in my virtual worlds
Because I remain anchored to my decaying frame,
Which is unable to even walk through doors,
Let alone teleport or travel to different worlds;
I have to wait for an unlikely genius to be born
So I can transfer my mind and become software

‘Bury My Mind in the VR Realm’ by Jon Ureña

The Fellowship of Rot (Poetry)

To find herbs for potion crafting,
I always venture into the woods alone,
And always at night, to avoid detection
By the many who wish humanity ill

Among fern trees with moss-encrusted trunks,
The forest has so many hidden paths,
And anyone who knows them can disappear at will,
To seek medicinal plants in secret places

I’ve never needed strength, any power of force;
What mattered most was that I was brave enough
To do what others couldn’t do,
Or wouldn’t dare try

The night has long since turned black and grey,
With only starlight peeking through the trees
My footsteps leave behind the tracks I made,
But no longer do my steps crunch in the leaves;
Now the only thing making noise
Is a quiet sound that creeps into the air,
A whispering voice from another plane of space

I can smell what wafts off her body;
Her foul stench is seeping into my pores,
Like smoke from burning coal
That chokes out all the air around her

I hold my breath and lie down between bushes,
Where my body becomes the brush and weeds;
My hands are trembling uncontrollably now,
As I wait for her evil presence to fade away
Into oblivion, like smoke from burnt paper

The witch appears before my weary gaze
In all her twisted majesty and grace;
I’ve been discovered by the queen of rot,
Who glides upon a bed of crimson moss

I have felt this malevolent presence before,
A creature from a dark and dreadful past,
When a couple of daring experiments
Pried open the fabric of time and space:
She had been waiting for me down there,
Or for anyone who would enter her domain

I stare back at the darkness of her pupils,
Which shine with madness and malice untold
Then comes a flash of light as time resumes
From a split that seemed eternal before

The witch’s fluid form flows from tree to tree,
While she spreads forth tendrils from her frame
Her rotting limbs grow in length and number,
They burst outward into countless tentacles,
Each tearing off her outermost hide,
Leaving her flesh exposed like a dead snake’s,
To pull everything that they sense toward her core

I turn away in horror, unable to watch
I feel my heart racing, as my head begins spinning
My eyes grow wet, a lump raises to my throat
I know the witch has come to collect on what I owe

The leaves of the bushes are falling to the ground,
All around me there is death
As if someone had poured salt on the earth

Soon I feel the witch’s pull on the strands of time,
Trapping every living being under her spell;
Each second becomes one frozen in amber,
So nobody can run away from that which waits
In a void filled only with nothingness and hate

My heart beats wildly,
My lungs begin gasping in the dried air,
Then my eyes meet her dark red ones;
I am not immune to that malevolent stare,
As she glares into my mind and steals my will

A brilliant beam shoots out of the witch’s eyes,
Through the bushes I was hiding in
I use the same energy crackling through me
To fire back a bolt from my hands
That lances my enemy’s heart,
But it doesn’t even faze her:
She flows to the side and behind a tree,
Leaving behind a smoky trail

I run home as fast as my legs can carry me
And lock myself inside my bedroom
I want away from that terrible presence,
But I can’t shake her from my brain:
No matter how hard I try, her malice lingers on;
Even after closing my eyes,
She’s staring into them still

I take refuge within a bottle of liquid potion
To keep the witch’s rot from spreading,
Until I can figure out a brew
That could remove her curse,
But I’ll need some new herbs if I am to brew
Such a powerful magical concoction

I’ve never been a normal human,
But the witch’s essence can corrupt anyone,
Turning them into tormentors of mankind,
So my only hope of escaping
This vile presence
Is through alchemy

The ingredients for the brew are hard to find;
It will take a lot of time and preparation
To extract enough components
From the rare flora found in the nearby forest,
But I already feel the fever setting in:
I’m going to burn out, soon the effects
Will consume my very soul, if not my mind

It is well known, by people all around,
That once the poison takes hold of your veins,
You can never leave its grip again
Your body becomes restless, your bones creak,
And you start to feel an unquenchable thirst,
A ravenous hunger that can’t be sated,
Because all that your insides crave is the rot

The girl that you were is now no more
You’re becoming a creature
That has no right to walk among mankind;
You will become one that will bring
Instead of life and joy, chaos and death

I need to return to being myself,
Back to a person who deserves
To breathe the fresh, clean air,
Who lives and loves for the common good

I have to hurry and gather
All the ingredients I need
For a potion potent and strong;
Without them the poison’s effects can spread
Into every corner of humanity

But how do I get my hands on these
Strange plants, that grow nowhere near
My hometown, deep in the woodlands?
There must be something else
That can be used as a catalyst,
Something I might have seen
On one of my trips out into
The night-shrouded forest

I wake up on the forest floor
With no knowledge of how I have come here
Little by little I begin to remember:
I was searching for the rare ingredients
That would take me ages to find,
So I could slow down the poison in my blood,
But the witch’s venomous touch has spread
Deep into my brain, poisoning me;
Every thought I’ve ever held
Now feels tainted with a tinge of evil,
And everything I was before seems like an act,
The performance a marionette would play

All that remains is the witch,
A shadow that floats over me;
She haunts my every waking thought
As my body aches and burns

As the corruption slowly overtakes my senses,
All the things that made me happy,
Or made me laugh out loud,
Suddenly don’t mean anything to me;
All that remains of what made my life worth living
Are just a series of meaningless memories:
Like the first day I saw a flower bloom,
Or the day when my brother came over
And helped me plant my own tree in our garden
Before he disappeared into thin air,
Because he went out hunting
And never returned

In a small hut with smoke curling above,
On a moonlit winter night when snowflakes fell
From an icy sky, in my mother’s lap,
There were two faces that were dear to me,
Two smiling, kind faces which would say “We know,”
If someone tried asking them to understand

I can still move, I can think clearly,
But my hands are no longer my own:
They belong to another entity
Who desires the world’s destruction and pain,
And she wants me as her willing slave
To turn the whole human race
Into creatures of the night
That crave bloodshed and decay

I can hear the whispers in my head:
She says she is the queen,
The mistress of darkness,
Of chaos, despair and ruin;
All that lives has no choice
But to bow to her will
And do her biddings,
Or be consumed

The voices in my mind pray to this evil queen:
“Please destroy this town and all it contains,
Make them suffer until their end”
Then she laughs and tells me:
“Your suffering shall continue to increase,
For the town I wish you to destroy
Is the only thing keeping you alive”

I scream in rage and anguish:
“No more!”
I refuse to submit to the witch’s wicked plot;
I’ll fight back and rid myself of her curse at last,
Then I’ll burn away all the poisons inside my heart

Everything starts going black around me,
A darkness seeping through from all directions;
The witch’s voice speaks into my brain,
Making the sounds echo in an endless loop:

“I am a servant of Chaos,
The mistress of darkness,
The keeper of pain and decay
You must serve me or you’ll die”

My cries echo in empty air; I’m trapped
Between a monster of the dark and me;
I am the creature that was once myself,
But it has become nothing more than a beast

As I lose myself into the shadows,
A darkness deeper and darker grows;
All that I can see now is her evil,
My eyes see all things as they really were:
The world appears dark, twisted,
Strange, surreal, and ugly
All of the living beings I come across
Are grotesque, unnatural, and vile

My body feels like fire,
My mind screams in terror
As I trudge my way back to town
So I can hide among my kin

If only I could be strong and resist,
Then my parents and brother,
Who cared so deeply about me,
Would still live on in my heart,
As precious as stone, forever

If my soul is fated to burn away,
At least I want to tell of my transformation,
To show the world what evil lurks within,
But the bright faces that used to welcome me,
That greeted me every time I walked into the city,
Look at me as if I am a stranger;
I can tell that they smell my rottenness,
That from now on I will only spread decay,
And they can’t stand being near such filth;
They won’t be fooled by my pretty smile any longer,
For my mind is corrupted beyond salvation

The girl who I was has been destroyed,
She has burned and rotted like an ancient log;
Her remains have turned the entire forest black,
And all that is left of me is my rotten core

I feel like an imposter:
My essence has transformed and grown stronger,
And so have her dark powers
Which are much too great to oppose,
So I have to turn myself away
From my past self

My old friends accept me into their homes,
But they make the mistake of touching my skin:
My corruption spreads through their pores
Until they change as well, into beings like myself

Their minds and bodies twist
Into beasts with insatiable appetites,
But my body doesn’t burn as brightly as theirs:
I have the ability to control my new instincts,
So as long as I stay away from these fiends,
I won’t lose control of the poison in me

I must swallow my sorrow,
Bear this suffering;
It is a bittersweet taste,
This poison of rot

Some of the townsfolk manage to flee,
But my newly rotten friends get the rest of them;
The villagers have all gone to the town square,
There are a lot more people there than I thought;
They stand silently in a circle, with their heads down,
And look up when they see that I arrived

The crowd make way, opening a path for me to enter
As my feet carry out the witch’s cruel commands;
My infection now flows through their brains,
And they became a part of me,
And me of them

The world around me
Has turned dark and twisted;
All life now resembles
What it always looked like to the witch:
Rotting logs,
Toxic sludge and poisonous flowers,
Critters covered with scales,
Venomous fish,
Infected creatures that want to devour the world,
And all the life upon it

I am no more than the evil
Who took away the brother that I once knew;
The rot is consuming me,
My body shakes and my mind grows dim
As the last vestiges of reason fade away
In the depths of this corruption that has overcome
The girl whom my brother had always protected;
He said I should never have taken the path
That leads into this dark abyss,
Yet now there’s nowhere else
For him and me to turn
But down the hole
Where all our loved ones
Vanished from our lives

My life becomes a void
Where only emptiness and hate remain:
An eternity without the sun’s rays,
An infinite expanse without a star in sight;
No matter where I run, she is waiting there,
Sitting upon the throne that was once empty

I was once merely the girl from town
That concocted beneficial potions,
Dabbling in dark magic without considering
The havoc that could be wreaked;
Now I’m a rotten creature that no human
Would ever look upon and be pleased to know,
And all I’ve done to reach this point of insanity
Is to carry on with a desperate need to keep living,
When my existence meant nothing
Except as a catalyst for death and misery

The girl that you see before your eyes
May seem perfectly normal, to most of the world:
A sweet-natured maiden
Who is a healer and protector of the land,
An idealized portrait that can’t possibly
Appear as twisted and deformed
As my own visage

Her beauty may be perfect,
But she still hides her true self:
An undead creature
With an unending craving to destroy the light of life,
To suck out all goodness from its victim’s soul;
She’s a harbinger of doom
For any sentient being
Who would come across her touch

All life will end as if it were the final curtain call
For the farce that we have all watched,
And I am just the stagehand standing at attention
In front of a curtain that conceals my mistress’ true face;
A stagehand who will do whatever it takes
To see her role played
As she brings the performance
That She has spent centuries crafting:
The perfect ending to this tragic story
Of our souls being trapped
Within a body made to decay

All that I am now, the witch made manifest
In the form that best suits her purpose; a fiend
Who preys upon the weakest-hearted souls,
That will not even fight, as if they knew
The outcome was certain from the start
As a part of this grand design
That is so clearly laid out,
So beautifully designed
To lead to Her ultimate conclusion

We’re in her domain now,
All of us wretches are her playthings,
And we’re her instruments of torture
That will roam throughout this land

The witch only wants a single thing:
To spread corruption across all creation,
To use my blood, her seed,
To sow evil into every sentient creature
Until her enemies are wiped out, forever;
This world will have been completely purified,
From those whose very presence is distasteful to her

It’s a spiral downward of pain and fear;
There can’t be peace for someone carrying
Such evil within their heart,
There is no way back,
No escape,
Not in life, nor afterlife,
Nothing to save one who’s lost her mind

I cannot escape this destiny of mine,
Our suffering is part of Her grand design;
If that witch is the queen of chaos, so be it
Let the darkness run through my veins

I am no longer afraid;
This is how I must walk forward,
And I won’t turn away;
This isn’t the life that my parents or brother chose,
Or the life that my friends expected from me,
But what I deserve after all these terrible years
That have taken such an awful toll
On my fragile soul

‘The Fellowship of Rot’ by Jon Ureña

A Ghastly Scar (Poetry)

My broken brain forced me to endure
Another one of many sleepless nights;
I rolled in bed, drenched in sweat,
Assailed by dredged up memories
And painful thoughts brought back to life

Only in such moments I recall this one girl
I briefly hung out with during middle school:
She was lanky, always wore her hair short
(It got wild when it grew to chin length),
Her eyes were too big for her face,
Her mouth puckered up awkwardly,
And when she talked, her voice sounded weird,
Like she swallowed air before speaking

Maybe because she sensed we were similar,
She attempted to become friends with me,
But she struggled to hold conversations;
All she did was talk and talk nonstop
As her words rambled around in circles
Like a child struggling to tell important stuff,
And yet coming out like incoherent gibberish;
Her speech reminded me of the sound
An old cassette tape makes when it is scratched

Whenever we met, she would act all cool,
Spouting smart talk that didn’t ring true;
I could tell she wasn’t happy,
But she kept trying anyway,
In an attempt to fool others
Into thinking she was fine

There was something desperate
About her smell,
And it annoyed me

She was falling apart inside;
This awkward girl, like me,
Was never able to fit in,
So I guess she tried to hide
Her emotional pain with fake smiles,
Because she couldn’t stand how she looked,
Or how she smelled or sounded,
Or how her brain made her feel so bad

Maybe to explain herself,
She wrote me letters on notebook pages
And filled them with elaborate drawings
Which she colored carefully
With her toxic-smelling ink pens

I’m not sure if I ever read those letters
With the care that she maybe deserved,
Because during those times I struggled
To even hold on to my sanity,
As an undiagnosed autistic teen
Who had to ditch plenty of classes
Due to anxiety, paranoia, bullying,
And a depression built into my brain,
As well as issues with auditory processing;
I felt like a wild animal captured
And trapped in a cage

I was the classic autistic case
Of a kid who does great in school
(Mainly because I spent my time
Either reading books or writing stories),
Until his peers begin developing socially;
The autistic kid’s grades quickly collapse,
Because his mind is already struggling
To process the rowdy, savage beasts
With whom he’s forced to share a classroom

I was a shy, quiet, anxious teen
Sitting alone in a corner
By a window, scribbling away
On notebooks that I hid from view;
‘Autistic Ghost’ would have been
My perfect superhero name

I’ve retained three memories of that girl:
The first one is her sitting next to me
As she struggled awkwardly to talk
(And I can’t be sure of the accuracy
Of any of the memories I’ve stored;
I read that our brains rewrite
Aspects of every memory
Whenever we access them,
So the best way to keep them pure
Is to never remember them at all)

The second memory is me standing
Close to the entrance of that school
When that girl came out bleeding
From a gash in her forehead
Which was bathing her face in blood;
She was being dragged by her armpits
By two pale-faced, female classmates

The next day I learned
That during arts and crafts class,
A well-known delinquent stoner
Had been twirling around
The handle of a paper guillotine,
Which ended up flying off
Until the blade of the steel cutter
Pierced the girl’s forehead vertically
From the hairline to the brow ridge

A different girl from the adjoined classroom
Had been taking a shower after gym class
When the shower floor collapsed,
Impaling the soles of her feet
With ceramic shards
(I was also loitering near the entrance
When they dragged this poor girl out,
So who knows how many times
Such unlikely disasters happened there)

We went to a working-class middle school
That would produce the next generation
Of retail clerks, civil servants, druggies and suicides;
A year after I graduated, a riot broke out:
The principal was beaten up,
Desks were hurled out of the windows,
Plenty of students got arrested
(I imagined the police shooting round after round
At young people in the playground)

(Why do I keep recalling
All these traumatic events?
Does PTSD work this way?)

The stoner who disfigured that girl
Was the popular, bad boy kind
That many teens were swooning over,
But I remember that he stunk like pot,
That he got arrested during a skiing trip
(I think he tried to sell hashish to the locals),
And that as an adult, he was the one
Who ripped my ticket in two
Whenever I went to see a movie;
He always hung his head low,
But I thought he was lucky:
At least he could keep that job

My third and last memory of the girl
Is glancing at her from a distance;
Her forehead was bisected
By a wide, purplish scar,
Like one left by a major operation
Where they had to open the flesh
To implant metal on a broken bone

(I imagine her,
In an attempt to hide it,
Drawing in black paint
Over that ugly wound,
Like the unhealthiest smile,
As if to say,
“See, you’re not alone”)

I don’t think I ever saw her again,
And I don’t recall any of her words;
My teen years had been so miserable
That I gave up every memento of them:
Stories, drawings, photos, letters;
So whatever this girl had to tell me
Ended up ripped in pieces
And thrown away into a trash bin

Soon enough I forgot her name,
But whenever my brain dredges her up,
Only during my many sleepless nights,
I picture her awkwardness and her scars,
Her desperate attempts to connect with others;
The pain I feel when I think about her
Reminds me how my own life ended
The same way hers did

I wish I could figure out how to google her,
To at least confirm what I always assumed,
That I would come across her obituary,
Which would be the last time
That anyone would have mentioned her name;
One day someone I have forgotten about
Will do the same for me

(Those letters are here again now,
Generated by my broken mind;
I can see that handwriting clearly,
Haunting me like a ghost

Her last letter went like this:
‘You can forget about me now,
I will no longer exist
Don’t try to reach out to me again,
Forget that I existed at all’

Like so many others,
I’m forced to remember her
For the rest of my life)

In hindsight, I wish I could have sat
Side by side with this girl on benches,
Even if we said nothing at all,
Because I think she felt the same way,
And that our pains were the same,
And that she would understand
That I wasn’t different from her

I’ve come to understand myself,
Now that I’ve gotten this old,
And I know that if I could go back
And spend time in her presence,
I would yearn to return to solitude,
Because no amount of goodwill
Has ever been able to change
What this monster demands of me

New experiences snick the surface
Of my clinically depressed brain,
Turning their memories into scars;
After I have endured for many years,
I’m left with a mesh of crisscrossing cuts,
So I can roll around in bed, drenched in sweat,
While my brain reopens some scars
To make them bleed again

‘A Ghastly Scar’ by Jon Ureña

A Pair of Old Dogs (Poetry)

I had forgotten the last time I played guitar;
After I became unemployed in late April,
I had focused on writing frantically
Until I finished the novel I’m still revising,
And my new contract for the entire summer
Caught me as I was trying my hand at poetry,
But creative people should play instruments
As often as they can, to keep their minds free,
And to widen the breach into the subconscious,
So its insights flow as unimpeded as possible

On this sunny July Saturday afternoon,
I walked again to my favorite spot,
A couple of kilometers into a trail
Which runs among grassy, hilly fields,
And tranquil cottages still as if deserted

The sun shone warmly down on me
The sky was clear blue above,
The air clean and fresh
I reached an isolated bench,
Where I put down my guitar bag,
Then sat myself down beside it

My calluses had softened after a few months,
So I played the songs with sore fingertips
In fact, I had forgotten how good it felt to play,
Like swimming in the ocean on a hot day

I lost myself again in the feeling
Of being captured in the song
That my hands and voice are making;
For as long as it lasts, I have never held a job,
Nor aged, nor suffered defeats or any pains,
Or felt anything except the pleasure of music;
In other words, I was like a young child
Who has no worries or cares about tomorrow

(A group of tweens passed by, yammering
As they played reggaeton on speakers)

A cement path leads uphill
From the bench where I usually play,
Through the narrow space between fields,
And disappears behind old, tall trees;
I had never followed it before,
But for whatever reason, I did yesterday

As I walked up the steep path,
Soon I ceased to hear the city noise
I could only hear the birds and the breeze,
And the quiet rustling of leaves overhead,
While to my left, in a fenced, wavy field
A group of horses chewed some grass,
Their muzzles deep in green clover

The blue sky above me,
The green leaves around me,
The smell of fresh grasses
And flowers and trees,
All these things were communicating
Something deep inside me,
Some message from the depths,
One so important and profound
That it cannot be expressed

I passed by large, hedged estates
From which came echoed barking,
Past old telephone poles standing tall,
And upon reaching a plateau,
I walked through a farmyard
Where chickens wandered around

I walked further uphill
With this old body I have to drag,
Until I felt like stopping to look behind:
A chain of mountains hid the horizon;
Despite the isolated houses
Built on the gentler slopes,
I would have faced the same view
A hundred, or five hundred years ago,
No matter how much the city changed,
And all the progress they think they do

There’s so much beauty left
In these hills and mountains;
Having been born here,
I must be fortunate

Goats were grazing on the garden
Of a farmhouse passed down for generations;
So high up on this hill, wherever I looked
I was surrounded by mountains and hills,
And a silence so deep it made me shiver

Tomorrow, I will have to traverse
A city made out of dozens of nationalities,
People who fight to assert their rights
Caring nothing about what came before
(A new reality we are supposed to support),
So I can return to my anxiety-inducing job
Where loads of people will call with problems
That I’ll have to squeeze my mind to solve
Until I get to return home drained,
When all I ever needed in this wretched world
Is a chair, a notebook and a pen, a guitar,
And hopefully music and some books

As I passed by a large estate
Where cows were grazing peacefully,
A pair of old dogs were lying motionless
In the shade of a tall, lonely tree
One of them was awake, and looked up
At the seagulls circling overhead

I thought about those dogs’ lives,
Their drooping faces and greying fur,
How they had spent their years
In the peace of nature,
With little to worry about
Besides yearning for a place to loll in;
How much better their lives had been
Than the one I’ve had to lead

A family was working in an elevated field,
Probably located in front of their estate;
The sound of a tractor’s engine rumbled:
It was ploughing, sowing or harvesting
(I know close to nothing about farming)
While other people followed on foot
As they worked with rakes or pitchforks

One of the people was a shirtless, hairy man,
And the others two young women in T-shirts
(Both of the women looked quite fit)
I passed them by as I worked on my ebook
(I’m still revising the latest novel I wrote)
I wished I could just walk around in nature
While as invisible as a ghost

I didn’t venture much further,
Because a hundred meters up ahead,
A big tractor was blocking the path
As its driver held an animated conversation,
So I turned around to return home

The two women on the elevated field
Were silhouetted against the hills
As they held their rakes across their shoulders,
And a bit further ahead, the rough man
Burped loudly as I passed by,
Which left a sour taste in my mouth;
He said goodbye to me with a tone
Between embarrassment and annoyance,
As if he was used to burping at people
And them considering it charming behavior,
But I was more disturbed
By a total stranger telling me goodbye

I stopped absentmindedly
To check something on my ebook,
And I heard bored growling
Coming from the estate to my right:
I had stopped in front of the old dogs,
And the second one, now awake,
Had gone back to doing his own job

As I walked away, I wanted to apologize;
I was intruding upon a world
Where I didn’t belong

I ended up walking down another path
Which I didn’t know if it would lead home,
While my heart got squeezed by sorrow;
I felt something had been stolen from me
When I was a child, a whole life
That I can never get back

I should have lived somewhere else,
Surrounded by nature and animals,
Focusing on stuff that truly mattered,
Instead of trying to find a place for myself
Among thousands of human beings

If someone proved to me that people
Had been placed here by aliens
So they would make a mess of this world
And destroy it if given the chance,
For no other reason than their desire
To create chaos and confusion,
At last our lives would have made sense

I am a dog in an old age
That has not yet begun;
I want to escape from it all,
I’ve had more than enough
Of this rotten civilization

As I descended the cement path,
I noticed an opening in the vegetation
Of the forest to my left, an archway
Into a narrow trail in the cool shade
Of the many old, untended trees

I sat down on the trunk of a fallen birch,
Pulled out my guitar and played a song
For the squirrels and the birds

When I returned to the streets
That I have seen thousands of times,
They looked different,
I had spent time in a landscape
I never knew before,
And it made me feel like I’d become
A person slightly different
Than the one of whom I’m sick

This Sunday is running out,
And my head feels heavy,
Like a leaden weight tied to me
By a rope around my neck

Tomorrow I will return to work,
To start a whole new week
Filled with anxiety and dread,
Having to solve everyone’s problems
When I’m unable to solve my own

‘A Pair of Old Dogs’ by Jon Ureña

The Princess of the Gutter (Poetry)

I entered my thirties as someone
Who had failed to get a stable job,
Who had worked for minimum wage
Programming corporate websites,
Which involved typing away non-stop,
Being pressured into working overtime,
And leaving the office at around five PM

As I waited for the train to come,
I daydreamed about walking forward
And dropping onto the train tracks below
(Why not? Why was I alive at all?),
And when I finally got home
Around six and a half PM,
Often I went to sleep immediately
(Or passed out when I sat down),
So I could wake up the next morning
For a new workday to drain me dry

One of those jobs I quit because
I couldn’t tolerate the stress
And exhaustion of those work hours,
I was fired from another one
While I was on medical leave
Due to anxiety and depression,
And the others either let me go
Or didn’t hire me after the trial period,
All of them with a creative variety
Of ‘you can’t work well in a team’,
Which would be fair and all
If working there had involved teamwork,
Instead of me sitting alone at a desk
Programming whatever they told me to

(I’m a terrible worker, I admit it,
Unless I’m interested in the subject,
Because I only care about my obsessions,
And I will work as little as possible
If I can get away with it)

The last of those cases was back in 2015,
When my immediate boss argued angrily
Against the supervisor that didn’t hire me
After a trial period I got through a center
For adults on the autistic spectrum;
That supervisor I hadn’t dealt with
Stated the cookie-cutter phrase
As the reason why she wouldn’t hire me:
‘You wouldn’t fit in with the team’
A more accurate assessment of my abilities
Would have been ‘We’re better off hiring
Somebody else that has less problems’

I had spent six months of my life
Programming their intranet for free
So I could add that bullshit experience
To my curriculum vitae,
Although no employer who reads it
Would consider hiring me

(Their HR person wanted me to be proud
That my effort reduced their work time)

Anyway, I had given up on ever making it
As a regular member of society
(In which I never felt I like belonged);
I spent most of my days reading,
Writing (very little those days),
Playing video games, playing guitar,
Or masturbating

As I was busy hating my life,
I was called from a center that deals
With adults with severe disabilities,
To attend some half-assed, bullshit course
About developing social skills for work

During the initial interview for the course,
One of the counselors offered me a job
At a workshop, in the assembly line;
Leaving aside that I didn’t want it
(I try to avoid working in jobs that
Would make me want to kill myself),
The tremendous din of those workshops,
As well as how loud some workers are,
Would clash with my auditory disorder,
And my IBS would make me stop the line
Every forty minutes or so to take a shit,
So I decided to pass on that opportunity
(If you can call an opportunity a job
That wouldn’t pay me enough to live;
I hadn’t become that desperate yet)

They justified the government grants
By setting up a course that would teach us
How to talk politely and behave professionally,
To learn how to face life’s challenges
And become integrated into the workforce

Modern society believes, and is forced to,
That everyone is equal in a diffuse sense,
The same way a religious person believes
In a god that is just a construct
From which they derive their sense of meaning
Without the need to question or analyze it;
The gods are not omnipotent,
So if we don’t believe in them,
Everything collapses into absurdity

(I’m not willing to accept an existence
Where different people must be treated equally;
People are born with or develop
Wildly incompatible needs and abilities)

The supposedly well meaning idiots
In charge of organizing these courses
Put people with physical injuries,
Severe intellectual disabilities,
Severe “social” disabilities (autism),
And even a jihadist without disabilities
(Some shit about risking exclusion)
In the same fucking course,
Which made it utterly worthless;
I was furious at the state we were in
As a society that I had to deal with it

(We wasted half of every class
Hearing how our society was terrible
And we should think about converting
Into a more compassionate religion,
As if I didn’t already hate this civilization
For forcing us to tolerate this garbage)

Anyway, during one of the breaks,
I skedaddled as usual to read alone,
Sitting at an isolated bench
As my earphones played storm sounds

But that day someone walked out
Of the nearby workshop,
Where a bunch of disabled people
Sat in front of an assembly line
To assemble machinery parts

It was a beautiful woman
About twenty five years old,
Who wore a workshop uniform;
As she shuffled to the bench
Located right in front of me
(Maybe seven meters away),
She was sobbing like a child
As if nobody could hear her
Or nobody would care

(I immediately thought that she cried
Because her life wasn’t worth living)

When she sat down,
Her shoulders drooped
While the streams of tears
Dripped onto her lap

She looked like those women
I passed by as I walked through
The fanciest neighborhoods
Of the capital of Gipuzkoa,
Where well-off women strolled
While they held their shopping bags;
I would believe her if she had told me
She was an actress preparing a role

I sat there gawking at her
While I held my breath;
There was something epiphanic
In how such an incongruous woman
Sobbed like an abandoned puppy,
As if the world had left her behind

I wondered how broken she was,
And about her kind of brokenness
(Nobody would have ended up there,
In a facility up in the hills of Donostia,
If society hadn’t decided to hide them)

Someone else came out of the workshop:
It was a hirsute, ugly man in his forties;
He was missing most of the hair on top,
But I remember tufts of thick back hair
Peeking out from the collar of his uniform

He hurried up to sit at the bench
Next to the beautiful, sobbing coworker;
I think he asked her what was wrong,
While she trembled
And her chest convulsed,
Then I heard her thin, broken voice,
Trying to cobble a sentence together
As if her brain was cleaved in two;
The words were incomprehensible

(It made me feel that life is a lie,
A farce that we’re forced to accept,
And I wished that all the pain
That was in the depths of my heart
Was so intense that it would kill me)

It might have been cerebral palsy,
Or a myriad other disorders or diseases,
But whatever the cause, she was broken
To the extent that she knew
That she could freely sob in public
Like a ghost wailing in the night

The hirsute coworker put his arms
Around the sobbing woman’s shoulders,
And as he cuddled up to her,
He spoke to the crying beauty
With tender words

He stroked her head
And kissed her temple,
Like a lover does
To comfort their beloved,
While she wept and wept

(That man was the ugliest I’d ever seen,
Because he was the one hugging her
When it should have been me)

I still wonder if she knew,
If she was aware of her limitations,
If she was a bright woman
Trapped in a brain unable
To put together coherent sentences,
Or if she had been blissfully spared
By her severe disabilities
That degree of sentience

(I hope she was stupid,
As dumb as a wild animal,
So she wouldn’t understand
The kind of hell she lived in)

What I learned from attending centers
For disabled people who can’t get jobs,
Is that most human beings are spared
Having to come across the people
Who would disturb society
With their misery

‘The Princess of the Gutter’ by Jon Ureña