Original content? Ok. Pucker up, butter cup, ’cause here it comes in waves. Psych. I’ve got nothing left to offer at this late hour. I couldn’t even possibly wing it. I’m just too damn tired…too worn down…too broken…too flayed…too massacred…too given over to the dark side that only longs for sleep. I could never pull something out of the hat that had any type of residual value. There is not an ounce of profit left in my sold out soul. There is no silver gleaming in this bag that I traded for the savior’s flesh. I hung him up there on the cross myself. I licked the sweat off his ripped apart wrists as the blood dripped down in the blistering sun. Fuck all, that even sounds dark to me…and I’m used to the shit that spews forth from my consciousness in these types of moments. Well, why not keep pushing the envelope? Why not shit on the soul of the collective consciousness? Why not put a dagger in the heart of true love? Why not kiss off and call it complete? It’s all just a joke. It’s all going broke. No, wait, that’s me…but I’ll recover…the fortune is getting closer by the day…planting seeds…laying a foundation upon which the empire can be built…

Three poems published today at different venues:

Blooming Like Winter – Poems and Poetry

Taking Measure of the Situation – Social Justice Poetry

Whatever Works for Ya – The Screech Owl

Volume 17 Issue 1 of The First Line arrived in the mail today. It contains my short story ‘Stoking the Fire’. Originally submitted as a poem, the editors made a wise decision and asked me if it could be converted into a different form. Upon seeing their notes, I fully agreed to the switch. It’s always nice to work with people you trust. For the most part this has been my experience so far while submitting and publishing. Of course, every once in awhile some complete fool will try and fuck around with something they have no business altering. But these types of failed critics are easy to walk away from after having shaken off the dust.

Karma will crush the impostors while elevating the higher breed to the loftiest heights. Christ, I always come back to the ‘evolve or die’ type consciousness. It’s pretty ingrained in my psyche at this point (thanks a lot, Nietzsche).

Selah,

Scott Thomas Outlar