HeyJaredA Madman's Miscellany
An array of anecdotes and art therapy in alleviating anorexia.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 7, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 10, 2026
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Perfect System (opens the original)
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By only our sheer shared presence,a music of “oil for water” spits upI blend into furniture, my homeIs yours, my body is my homeAnd with my proximity and presenceMy home is my body, its walls feelAs soft skin does to my ownLack of touch,the pooling waters ofGlass tears,each star after the bleeding stops My labour of love has paid in penniesEach star is a pool
Sidewalk Walking, The Police (opens the original)
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A fierce black hound is all she wore to the war in my headRed red was the recovery room, a piano stretched and turnedItself into a boxcutter yellow as the distended belliesAnd due to the lesbian’s smoke arising from theKmart weighted blanket, the walls spat and coughYellow also, her black dog nudity was naturalAnd naturally for me at least and last, i go only whereI have gone before, where i’m going no one will followThe human is dehumanised, it is human and
This is the Truth (opens the original)
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Kin only in page relation, writing on a rolling paperMy skin soaked of sorrowful, sopping wet animalStarvation is animal as it is humanOf other ilk and the silken skin sinned with ageSkintaut, rolling silk cigarettes, for other’s warmthHeat seeking hypothermia as misery breedsCigarettes soaking in their tincan hottub Relit overmuch, laying bent in their ageThe comfort of lying bent in ashesAshes to ashes, eating only dustTalking
Into My Arms (opens the original)
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A smiling black cat smiles wider, thusly the screen shatters, shotI eat my rubber biscuits and consider deeply the taste of povertyThe far away fragile and agile wound is rechecked bi-weeklyIn reality, i bleed out like a butchered dog in janie jones’ wearfareIn the arms of jane jacobs roasting in the cold, a -360 partygirlWith an ouroborous hairdone, the psychiatrist (in a venusian church)Is in the confessional box all cardbored; the priest enters tearfulSuckling at the ban
Plastic Jesus is a work of art (opens the original)
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Eating awayThe cheese had encased, craved, and encased againBalloon dog, the dog swails, the linens changedSwill! Swill! I triumph over my hypotension as iCollect all my bones back into my bagsense,My eyes are feeling all full of bags in bags andIce and icy, a parent bought the heat away inDollar signs similarly to the sigils, softly resettingThe “L” slips its tongue away and away againAnd i don’t know no knowing more! mor
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