October 29, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

pixabay photo



Alex Brown







carcass strewn from a hook

skin once fleshy and pink

a boy who was to become a man

stripped of growth

by stranger’s hands


careless prey

wearing those shorts

mother picked for me

unable to stay composed

catching a glimpse of my

tighty whities


spider-man on the front

my favorite pair

slipped his hand in them

boyhood cupped

whispers of intent

“I want your little boy meat”


drool marinated flesh

seasoned in spit

did not go in dry

so considerate gutted still


no cries for saviors

slobber upon the lobe

“good boy” I was awarded

do as adults say they said


carved the soul

from my bones

drank up my sinew

like stew


a boy no more

skewered with affection

poached of innocence

emptied by sin


nothing left of fleshy pink skin

no more boy eager for pretend

just a carcass left rotting






Alex Brown

I was born right outside of Atlanta, Ga. Spent my youth coming up with any excuse to visit the city, fascinated by the many different ways people lived their lives. It was on the streets of Midtown that I found myself among the queer community. As a gay man in his thirties I use poetry as a way to deal with inner thoughts and turmoils. Currently sober after many years actively using opiods, When I’m not writing or working my recovery, I’m sipping on a coffee trying not to let the many Netflix options overwhelm me.

Editor review

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.