SCUMBAG NATION / I AM HOME ALONE ON A FRIDAY NIGHT BECAUSE NO ONE LOVES ME

jane_collage

Image © Jane Flett 2015

 

by Joanna C. Valente October 26, 2015

 

SCUMBAG NATION

 

If you want to be

a woman, melt

cheddar cheese all over

 

your body until your body

becomes a river where dogs

piss when their owners

 

abandon them on sidewalk

curbs. Intention doesn’t

matter—all humans are

 

animals, especially

when pretending not

to have a face—remember

 

that time you got K so drunk

her eyes gleamed opaque as

twilight just so your hands

 

could touch her

while she slept without

a body?

 

 

I AM HOME ALONE ON A FRIDAY NIGHT BECAUSE NO ONE LOVES ME

 

text message 11:03 pm:

owl is watching me,

i spilled 
my gin inside my thighs

& pretend to sext a guy i met

on tinder

 

text message 11:05 pm:

does his face look like punched 
leather

or thin as guitar strings?

pics or it didn’t happen

 

text message 11:11 pm:

he told me to make a wish

for the world 
to end before midnight

i wonder if he thinks of me before 
he takes a shit,

if inside me 
feels like water boiling,

a mosh
pit of sting rays

 

text message 11:35 pm:

dead men are the only men

who listen

 

text message 11:37 pm:

that must be why i’m in

buffering hell

 

text message 11:55 pm:

come over? let me know when

yr body is no longer

in yr house & no longer yrs

but someone else’s
 
__________

 

Joanna C. Valente is the Managing Editor for Luna Luna Magazine. She is the author of Sirs & Madams (Aldrich Press, 2014) and The Gods Are Dead (Deadly Chaps Press, 2015), and received her MFA at Sarah Lawrence College. Her second full-length collection Marys of the Sea is forthcoming from ELJ Publications in 2016. She also has a chapbook, Xenos, forthcoming from Imaginary Friend Press. Some of her work appears in The Huffington Post, Columbia Journal, BORT Quarterly, among others. She founded Yes, Poetry in 2010. Her ghost resides at her website: joannavalente.com.

 

Jane Flett is an over-excitable pervert with a penchant for ridiculous metaphors and glitter. She’s won various awards, including Salt’s Best British Poetry (2012) and Wigleaf’s Top 50 (Very) Short Fictions (2014), but she’s still waiting to be presented with her honorary tiara and tankard of gin. When Jane’s not writing, she likes to play cello with Ambika in the riot grrl band Razor Cunts, teach creative writing courses through The Reader Berlin, run festivals, host queer events, and rollerskate down Tempelhof runways in hotpants. http://janeflett.com
 

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