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.

10.25.2012

Brain Heart Million

Inside a physical time, you're connecting your limitations with the dollars.

Where is that impossible knife? Our quickest electricity questions where the strong gotta find the answer, dancing into the formulas when it cuts like a world of energy minds.

You're running. You got creative equations. You push it deeper. You're burning into your life algorithms.

10.24.2012

The Nail and Waffle

Against the old filigreed statements of loyalty, our national director is full of hungers like the hunger for tuna and the hunger for new hair and the hunger for waiting until the woman comes to him. He is fresh and papery. That's a really amazing guy I think.

I can't wait much longer myself because it's not all the wandering urges and plain speaking that I was born into, instead I have this independent spiritual regime I stick to that keeps me loud and radiating like the greatest neutron star.

I got sick. I walked to the national director's house and begged for some money. I got the money from someone and it bought me some tickets for the food contest. I won the food contest and I sold the food to some rotten individuals who didn't deserve it because they were exotic animal smugglers who fed the stuff I sold them to some tigers and parrots and an anteater. I didn't know anteaters ate bologna but apparently, yeah.

I don't know what's going to happen now. Our national director switched to pleated slacks and a lot of us plan on doing it too, but we'll wait a little bit so it's not like we're on the bandwagon, because it's not a good thing to have that reputation. People think you're sucky if you do it, so you hold off and then after the initial wave of the fad has subsided you slip into the menswear outlet and pick up some pleated slacks slyly and wear them to Bennigan's or the place with the big onion.

10.23.2012

DO NOT TRY TO EAT SOUP WITH THIS SPOON!

Would not have all energy from the big bang passed by billions of years ago if the universe expanded from a singular central point? Is it possible that some species of spiders are SO small that you miss them altogether? That is tribal shit man! I got it as a present from my brother-in-law as a pirate DVD.

The gestural control was a nice surprise; I didn't know it had that capacity. Who is the long haired person at the beginning? Now here's a guy we wish we could take credit for. Learn how polymers hook together with the included activities. Cornstarch is used to make gravy. It's not edible on its own.

10.22.2012

Very sweet and ambitious

There is no sugar in the meat or cheese. I couldn't stop laughing, after I spent that whole day crying. You seem to be angry. Do you have a large rusted item in your rear?

I would get a boner except for the old guy with the measuring tape. I eat a good portion of it each day on a trough-sized plate at dinner.

And, notice when the driver of the car gets in to start he is wearing a helmet, then half way through no helmet. This will especially happen if you have an old bitch like mine was. I guess I'm the anomaly in your hypothesis.

10.21.2012

Flinging Puzzle Molybdenum Porridge Molybdenum

The soaking sensation on your scalp is because of the song we sung yesterday. It was a hot tune I thought and I'm glad we did it, and I'm even happier that we ate the big cake afterwards. I'm less thrilled about what is happening to my body now. My nerve cells are growing super-big and poking out of my skin.

It's not happiness that's happening to me. It's something more like the wounded sound of cold wood. That's why I left the garage and you are alone with the rags and dusty glass.

In a week, I will be surprised because I am enjoying the thing that is happening to me and I will be a transformed object with knowledge of the opposite. With new flesh and the kind of money one spends on nothing, I'll walk away, into slow silence.

Find me.

10.20.2012

The Shawshank Whatever

Farmville was invented by two guys in a hammock. One hammock they share. That's okay. It was pretty strong and it's not like it was hung on a crappy pair of trees. The trees were these big beech trees that get so pretty in the autumn. So pretty. It's a good thing to pick a pleasant afternoon and wistfully reminisce about the kinds of things people wore in the past, or musical types of things one may have heard, or the way little kids are growing because of all of these exploding cells in their bodies and the thoughts they have are particularly mad.

So, one of the Farmville dudes was consorting with a truly hideous troll-faced woman who controlled a lot of things in town, like different ways people got their water or the sorts of wheelbarrows that were allowed or acceptable plaids. But the woman was also fucking a scary ghost and whenever the Farmville dude met her for his own fuckings, she smelled like ghost semen and ghost sweat as well as...

...this is kinda difficult to say...

...ghost farts.

But this was all about learning from experiences in life, so it's not like there was any weird drama or strife involved. The Farmville dude was on to these spectral dalliances, and when confronted with his mild accusations, the monstrously gross woman said that she had a lot of lust for phantoms that she had a hard time reining in. When Farmville dude truly pondered that, he understood that the fact that she would constantly fuck that horrid ghost wasn't a reflection on Farmville guy himself but rather it was just something that had to be done. Farmville guy understood that she wasn't really cheating on him when she was fucking the nasty ghost any more than she was cheating on him by eating bagels.

As you can tell, this was a really super-valuable experience for one half of the Farmville brain trust, and by sharing this story with others, he has improved the general sense of welfare among people.

10.19.2012

VR

Ìn that room there we can get a drink called Smooth Orange, and it is good on a day when you've got less plans than usual or your ambitions are lower than smelly shit. Because when you drink the Smooth Orange the face you have becomes like gassy water and the clothes you think you own are revealed, essentially, to totally own you.

It's kind of heavy stuff. I keep the Smooth Orange in a ninety dollar thermal protection cup I got from the store in the mall where some peoples' spouses work. Good things to drink out of are important, and it's like one way you should not hesitate to spend the big money. You'll see someone who seems too much like a falling thing and you'll give them the Smooth Orange and then you'll help them feel everything about death, and understand its casual bliss. I like to do it in stiff denim.