three poems
by dee p. r. kay
post-everything
ephemeral painkillers:
daytime TV talking heads
with cathode ray halos
selling anesthesia as healing
dreams plagiarized from nightmares
jotted down in a red prison journal at 3 a.m.
our inner child's ghost
standing over a nameless grave
playing with a Ouija board
in the haze and plume of Palo Santo
asking Jung for answers
after 82 days no contact...
we got Kalsched
the planchette sidling-up to the abyss, whispering, “same”
floating as wraiths in the static
of the big nothing of it all
begging permission to feel something—anything!--post-everything
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!
look what you DID.
my own dayum fault
you rapped
on the hotel door
framed by darkness
thru the peephole
larger than life
IRL—
leopard skin booty shorts
crop top
candy-colored ensemble
was it really you?!
yes
yasssssssssssss!
past trysts
foiled
by bat soup plague
à la manufactured consent
and here we were...
you bolted to the window
the Margaritaville volcano alarm
BLARING
its hourly homage to Jimmy Buffett
i held you trembling
molten memories
of escape
from a three-alarm fire in NOLA
extinguished by tears
“I love how honest you are,”
you said,
when I was reticent
to French kiss
confessing i’d just eaten a triple whopper
& forgotten my toothbrush
fuck-trophy parasites & soccer moms
cluttered the hallway
as I hyperventilated
& you whispered,
“they’re gonna hear us”
selfie-h8tred
do socials—
because
you hear
your voice
as Pazuzu screeching
black metal
claws raking
a chalkboard
inside
the
din of
algorithmic
distortion
you see
yourself
as the woman
in Room 237
of the Overlook
a desiccated
ghost
of desire
the ineffable internet
le miroir noir
void
didn’t matter
that
to me
you were
all that
Photo of Dee P. R. Kay
BIO: dee lives and writes on the Gulf Coast with his two daughters. His first novel, We Dat, was published 2025. Dee has been published in Blood+Honey, The Argyle Literary Magazine, BULL, The Opiate, and etc. His handle on socials is @dee_p_r_kay