I built you a jungle by Lo Poholek

I built you a jungle

by

Lo Poholek

I built you a jungle

We are sitting on the couch and the couch is pierced with metal. The couch is pierced with the metal of automobiles that I caught for you, like flies on the ceiling, but cars on the street. They are corpses now. They are corpses that I caught for you like flies on the ceiling. We are sitting on the couch and the couch is a car but not. We are not driving but we are sitting. On the metal couch. On industrialization.

We are in the jungle.
I built a jungle for you and we are in it.
Our jungle. We are in our jungle.

There is too much metal and it is metallic against your skin and you look silver and bronze and your body is bare but covered in the clothes I made for you out of ripped car seats that came from the car corpses that I tore apart and stretched apart and peeled apart. I curled their metal into the sky for you and I made us trees.

I made us trees from the metal of car corpses. They used to sway in the wind before they grew through the ceiling. I built a jungle. I stood in the middle of traffic and spread my arms end to end and they collapsed against each car body as it passed until I caught them, lifted my hands and caught them. Until I picked them up with my hands. With my jungle worn hands. With my calloused jungle worn hands. With my calloused jungle worn hands I caught these cars for you and before I brought them back to you, I threw them into the asphalt.

I pressed them into the asphalt and their trunks tore themselves open. Their trunks opened and I pushed them into the asphalt and the asphalt smelled like crying but it did not cry. I built you this jungle from car corpses and I pushed them into the tear hot asphalt and I ripped them open. I ripped their sides open with my teeth and I curled them up over their own bodies and I curled them around my forearms and then I pressed them into the sky.

They swayed with the wind and I stood in traffic with my arms wide and trucks and cars and vans drove past me. They curled around my toes and my feet and around my body and I curled their dead car corpses around my forearms and I curled them into the sky. They swayed and they swayed and they swayed with the wind.

I built you a jungle of car corpses and I pulled them from their ground from the tear hot asphalt and I uprooted them and I made you a bouquet of metal, but it was small in my hands. I pulled these giants from the earth and they were small in my hands, so I pressed them together and their metal melted into each other and the red and the green and the white and the black and the corpses they blended together in a bouquet that I gave to you and you planted them in the living room floor.

They ripped through the wood and you planted them in the living room floor and they ripped through the wood and they tore through the floor and their metal roots grew into the ground and the trees they grew through the wood.

You planted them and they cut your hands and they cut your hands and they cut your hands with car.

You were cut by industrialization and you bled into my palms and you put your palms onto my legs onto my thighs and you sat on your knees between my knees and you put your palms onto my thighs, with their car cuts and their tear hot asphalt and you put your blood onto my thigh and you looked up at me and there were tears in your eyes and you looked up at me and there was hot blood on my thighs and you looked up at me and your tears fell onto my hot thighs and your hot blood dripped between my thighs and you looked at me and there was metal pierced into your stomach.

There was car metal pierced into your stomach and it was pierced through your stomach and you looked at me with the hot blood on your hands and the hot blood spreading across your shirt and the hot tears on your cheeks and you looked at me and there was a jungle behind you.

I built you a jungle and it pierced through your body when it grew when you planted it into the wood. I built you a jungle and now it is in your body and now the blood is leaving your body and running down my legs and I am looking down at the hot tears on your cheeks and you are leaving me with your hot blood hot blood hot blood hot blood.

I built a jungle for you.

Bio: Lo Poholek lives in Tallahassee, Florida. She can be found on twitter @lopoholek.
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From the Superhero’s Diary by Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

From the Superhero’s Diary

by

Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

No question about it. I’m better than you. It’s what I do. You wouldn’t understand. I should be humble. Pride being a sin and all but I have the other six covered. Not a bad percentage. Better than yours I must say.