Poetry Snafu and the demon they call Ouroboros

[Snafu in the Void]

I've written a story for myself,
filled with tragedies
lost causes, and an unrelenting demon
preying on the main character;
stealing his lunch money,
stuffed in his nose,
coming out of a bottle, and
convincing him of things.
His name is Snafu,
his whole life;
an ever expanding circular maze
of fuck ups and regret.
'Ouroboros',
It's no love story.

I am the writer, producer and director,
constantly editing away.
By day, darkly imagined chicken scratches,
like a fable written for goblin children,
banned for murdering the minds of human youth.
By night, a revolting VHS movie labeled with a pentagram,
something that is likely illegal to own,
vicarious horror willingly projected
onto the back of my weary eyelids.

I told this story about myself,
it's a work of fiction,
yet I kept drinking, and drinking,
and drinking,
until I believed it was true.
It's slowly loosening the threads of my sanity.
This type of writing is a good-for-nothing sickly dog
that needs to be taken out back
to be put down.
It's time to write a better tale,
a 10-- no, 11 part series.
'Snafu the Conquering Wanderer'
completed to the end
with a happy ending.





(Just felt like writing sober style, quickly written, very unrefined)

 

[Mysterier]

Fantastic. I love this line.

like a fable written for goblin children