Owen Connors

4 untitled fragments
wore forbidden and a well dressed wound. super bad, bad, certified meat. i’m going slack in the current. i’m gonna start dressing now. see, i wanna play with the big boys. i let them all inside. i let inside me

no shit. i’ve bruised and lacking destination. i’ve reserved a hatred for others that turned to devour me. right now it’s eating, and, and, it’s on my face. i’ve been living distracted as shady creeps fighting shady creeps with flirts streaming steaming. i love to live this way. i throw gross shade, gross shade at creeps and i love gross creeps. i’m in bed in a bad mood about being in a bad mood. ill meat. accusing and adoring and rubbing up on the limit of things. this town. turns me on. i can go there but i can’t work it. you can work it but you can’t buy shit.



come gentle. come round gentle. i never come round gentle. come. come come salt the earth. come salt the earth with some heavy heavy men. me and some heavy heavy men. i’m coming back in a burning house. your wishes are endless and small. when nothing

below ya, close ya mouth more. black whisper in my vein. i try on new blood, does this look good on me, does this make me look good.



thudding halt, it fuck it’s this morning, i’m leaving town and choose growing and forking. mouths for party tricks and funneling funerals. this mouths for too too sweet and turning the

corner. find someone who’s always finds you disturbing. finds someone will always find you disturbing. get up, get everyone’s everything’s hard again. get it, everyone’s running in from the rain and stinks and don’t gets your rhythm. i love the stink. i love what stink says about your character. i wanna be reborn in stink. i want to be buried in stink. i wanna be reborn in stink so i can be buried in stink. oh baby. oh baby. obscenities my drag. up and back round to his house. text is a running joke. you give up too fast.

hey, i’m back. with this thing too. there a lot of us actually. and we coming for you.



well, we don’t feel good till we’re well and lying about it and in some vulnerable and exposed. your voice hardens. there’s a coma coming round. contagion. you’ll grow shit in

your hair as you’re a sleeper. a bottom lover in love with the bottom bites. still tastes like metal. whose your mate? whose your mate? i’m gonna eat flaking skin.



By Owen Connors

(Auckland, NZ) is New Zealand poet who lives in Auckland. His chapbook how to appear to disappear was part of the show New Perspectives (Artspace, 2016), & he is currently establishing Hard Press, a publishing house to represent unconventional writers.