A Cordial Welcome

Cosmik Wolfpack is a playground and laboratory for flash-formed poetry and nanofiction written by The Debtor, a white cisgender male and citizen of the United States.

If you have something to say to the author, send it to cosmikwolfpack at gmail dot com.

12.13.2012

Tonally Schizophrenic and Tonally Jarring

My favorite character got the whole ensemble together. It doesn’t feel organic. I guess he’s supposed to broadcast embarrassing news about real-life problems to the ridiculous douche-boyfriend character who is trying to seek new kingdoms rather than slumber in peaceful subjection to the rule of others. The historian shows up at the party to deliver an epic beatdown to an incredible asshole.

12.12.2012

Drug- and Sex-Obsessed Brats 4

All of the people I know stood on the ground that is my yard and when Ritz exited my well-appointed home, they were beyond crestfallen. I turned on my extremely bright security spotlight. I saw them gathered around the pond where my large goldfish live.

"I will feed you," I said, "But I expect to have explained to me what exactly has driven you to my yard in the middle of the night, culminating in the illicit entry of my home by my platonic friend Ritz."

Walker Jog spoke for the crowd. "We are loathe to explain ourselves at this moment, but we shall sup with you if it be your will."

"Aye, Walker. Aye. It is. Come around to the barn in the backyard, which I use for banquets and such."

And so the banquet began.

12.11.2012

Hey monkey had the watermelon

If you want a holiday gift, don’t put the circuit drivers in your house. Display shame and slowly encourage Mother Earth to exile all electricity.

Neighbors recommend ecologically safer money; switching holiday sounds will save a number of installers of LEDs. You want to gawk. You’ll trip.

12.10.2012

Drug- and Sex-Obsessed Brats 3

"I have never before seen the inside of your abode," Ritz said, a cagey sort of insouciance in both of her twinkling eyes.

"Noted," I replied, "but I'm more concerned with the rather disgusting footprints you are leaving on my Kevin O'Brien Daisy Petals area rug. Master weavers in India and other world-class rug-making regions didn't labor for countless hours so some American's platonic female friend could soil it at an ungodly hour of the night."

Like a cowed mongrel, Ritz backed out of the house. She walked on the tips of her toes, leaving a distressing number of tiny brown smudges on the strikingly dynamic grain and knots of my Acacia hardwood floors, further sullying the positive energy, exuberant flow and optimistic attitude of my home.

I do not control all re-tweets

The amateur social media lover sold a bag of ancient candy to the wannabe bacon fanatic. The candy was the kind that is brown and sweet, but before the wannabe bacon fanatic could run to the attic he rented from a subtly charming music guru, a typical food ninja grabbed the bag and filled it with hot, buttery piss. The wannabe bacon fanatic told the typical food ninja to give a wood chipper a deep dicking. Then the wannabe bacon fanatic wrote a brief letter to the editor decrying the state of modern confections.

12.09.2012

We Got a Grocery Store

Versatility is not your lightweight grandparents' kind of luxury. They're growing both of their possible dilemmas. transporting the sport cart to the gallery of items, the little population makes more perfect solutions indoors. Please visit their active life and use it for looking at the new senior picture, which is made of versatile outdoor lives. Parents see the uses.

Drug- and Sex-Obsessed Brats 2

With the silver key from the false avian domicile, Ritz opened the front door and gained entry into my extravagantly decorated bungalow. She was impressed by my Varaluz Aisen Collection Recycled Steel Floor Lamp, particularly enchanted by the Hammered Ore finish highlighting the steel textures that are a hallmark of the Aizen Collection. Awoken by her intrusion, I discovered her in the midst of this reverie.

12.08.2012

Drug- and Sex-Obsessed Brats 1

All of my people came to my yard and one of them walked up to the porch and looked into the picture window on the front of my house. Her face was so close it made a mask of steam on the glass. Her name was Ritz and she used her memory to obtain the secret key in the artificial bird's nest in the Thuja.

A Maniac is About to Hit You

I was very impressed to see the new humorous corporate training videos. I find that they create a rude gray freedom, and a delightful song lyric might develop. I might also reflect on a life event, a quiet time, a difficult situation, a multi-dimensional pleasure, or something profound. Or I might get a call from someone in Dallas, relaying some unpleasant information.
I started writing poetry when I was a child, probably around ten years old. I am also a licensed real estate broker.

12.07.2012

Award-Winning Delights

Let's help more frail women, wearing buds in our ears and the new shoes we bought. We'll give them new names and take them to stores where they'll purchase things we've never needed, sold by brands we've never heard of. After we've delivered them back to their homes, aluminum sided behind cyclone fences, we'll compare notes, swap playlists, maybe eat something microwaved. If we have it. And we'll spend our time wondering about the whole fucking thing.

12.06.2012

In Some New Place

I stand among the Yucca brevifolia, finally silenced
In the presence of the alien I sought.
I invite it in to work some transformation,
I don't know what kind.
Something painless on the cellular level,
I guess.
That seems right.
Then the moment dies the soft death
Which took each that came before.

12.05.2012

The Prayer is Webcast

The names and appearances of our failed progeny are valuable assets and the most visible symbols of our destiny. Do not invent words or phrases. In normal day-to-day written and verbal communications, our offspring should be referred to simply as “them guys." It is the perfect cover for the sort of wickedness that reflects the audience and describes the program or entity being named. Avoid acronyms and other abbreviations. They often lead to bad outcomes. It should be emphasized that these children aren’t out boozing it up or drugging, which can be vague and confusing.

12.04.2012

Fin and Bone

Party until all of the stuff you fear is far away. Time and pleasure and anger and thirst all knotted in your pocket. Potentially, the entertainments we endure offer some remorseful sense of serene engagement with the families we find alienating, who seem to offer a new rejection in every offer if refuge, who are unaware that their faces have turned inside out, revealing clotted smiles.

12.03.2012

A Strange Insect, or Kind of Creeping Plant

Now it happens to one of mine: the vessel of the self falters and fails. Lost and hidden things arrive unbidden and bring nonsense, a beautiful absurdity. I wear masks, each one handed to me with the instruction to cover my face, avoid mirrors, feel the weight of my body on the cheap cushion holding it. When the mask is dropped, I realize that there is still too much locked away, that the mask hides little of consequence. These are our final collaborations. I have heard reports from this frontier, and I find it much as it has been described.

12.02.2012

Elliptical Stratigraphic Pulsings of Different Temperatures

This is a kingdom. Some different kinds of animals live where those really big plants are, where there are clouds on the ground sometimes and where there are smells we can keep in the soft recesses of our bodies' insides. There is some water in some different places and when we drink it, some of it helps us see the King's Colors and some of it makes the things in our mouths do hard sounds. Some of the water hides dead animals and food no one wants.

Some of the King's Garments are hot like sun blood and the suffering is intense. The suffering is in the animals and the big plants, in the water and the dead animals, in the food and in the clouds on the ground, and in our softest recesses and in our homes.

We burned our homes and we only stop when our bodies force sleep on us and the dreams are full of the King's Words.

12.01.2012

Underlain by the Brackish Water

I took a hole punch to the papers. I use you; you are the map of a fake nation of mangled exiles. I am the meat. I cannot offer sustenance.