The Masochist by Scott Thomas Outlar

Exorcising demons –
they fly out
in a whirlwind,
left and right,
front and center,
here and then gone
in the blink of an eye.
Swoosh –
like a ghost of vapor
leaving no trail behind;
every poem that pours out
murders another one.
Things I’ve done –
Things I’ve said –
Things of the past
now buried there
in a shallow grave
dug with ink and paper.
Who needs a shrink
when you’ve got the flow
of the mad word
coming from your pen
at Mach 5
whenever the urge arrives?
Why would I pay
someone to listen to my shit
when I can get paid
to have other people read it?
Fuck, I’ve found the fountain
that springs eternal.
The chaos I’ve been through
is an endless stream
that never stops.
A violent piss
that never completely
clears out the liver.
A broken heart
that will never mend.
An open vein
that bleeds, bleeds, bleeds
a river of fire
into this broken world.
I can do it all day
everyday
24/7
and never grow tired
of playing out near the edge
with gasoline and matches.
Whether I fall off the cliff
or I go up in flames,
I’ll still be singing the blues
until I crash at the bottom
or burn into ash.
And if I should die,
I’ll come back again,
because that’s my karma
and it feels good
to keep on hurting
as the cycle turns.

Scott Thomas Outlar survived both the fire and the flood – now he dances in celebration while waiting on the next round of chaos to commence. Otherwise, he keeps things fairly chill, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, laughing at life’s existential problems, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His work has appeared recently in venues such as Section 8 Magazine, Dead Snakes, The Chaffey Review, Corner Club Press, Black Mirror Magazine, Dissident Voice, and The Kitchen Poet. Scott’s first attempt at a blog is 17Numa.wordpress.com.