Kevin Trent Boswell

colorblind

we project our
hopes and fears
onto people
we don’t
even know

you can find out
that you don’t
really know someone
even after many years
of living with them

and even as you’re
learning
that person,
they’re changing
all the time

and so are you

safety is an illusion

you are not safe

nor am I

what look like
green flags, today
seem bright red,
tomorrow

the thing that, today,
made you recoil,
because you
thought you saw
scarlet

you come,
later on,
to appreciate
as being
a stable,
comforting
emerald green

safety?

thefuckisthat?

I’ve never
been safe

not once

not even when
I was sure
I’d found
safety

you aren’t
safe

not so long
as you’re
dealing with
people

you roll the dice,
like everybody else

the only sensible
approach to
dealing with people
is to assume
that it’s
not going to
work out

but to behave
as if it will
work out

until they give you
some kind of
undeniable reason
to walk away

not some
superficial “ick,”
a childish picayune,
but a genuine
dealbreaker

and if that
never happens,
well then,
lucky you

nice work,
if you can get it

me?
I have
gone completely
into hiding,
many times,
often for years
at a stretch

I crawl out of my cave
only if something
seems particularly
interesting

I stopped looking for
greens and reds

because looking for them
never had any actual
bearing on the outcome

not once

now, I just assume
90% of the women
I encounter
are not going to be
worth the time of day

experience has taught me that

and the remaining 10%?

well, I won’t know
until I find out

the hard way

never learning
from your mistakes
is dumb

but being
too cautious
about the possibility
of making
some mistakes
that you might
learn from

is boring ⠀
and lonely

green and red
aren’t really
the best colors,
anyway

I’m more partial to
black and purple,
blues and grays

you are
not safe

nor am I

Vaya con Dios, amigo

Womb

I crawl into the womb of death
By evening

I crawl into the womb of death
By evening
I, fetus-like, encumbered
By the naive expectations that
I, childlike, mistake for dreams
I, quietly humbled,
Tug and tear at my many skins
With the teeth of anxiety…
Light the wick of castration,
Come, clear eyed, to the morning
So that existence might say:
The fort is secure,
No danger from the
Chipper, patronizing advances
Of winter⠀

I have tended bar at many a fool’s convention
While they conversed of heaven, piety, hell,
Struggle, etc, though not one of them had
Touched any of these
I grasped and tugged at the coattails
Of bishops and entrepreneurs,
Who cast aside cities, like empty matchbooks
I dabbed at their spilled martinis
And imported beers, with my beard,
Offered them my white robe, to dry their hands
Gurus shuffled nervously about, eating their karma
Waiters, offering caviar on crackers
They talked of Death as though She were a waitress,
Whose butt they would pinch, as She fluttered by,
In Her short shorts, eager to serve them
Rainbows fall into their pockets,
When they aren’t looking
Kings of the calm, quiet, opiate dream
Make stew with the meat of baboons,
The plate is garnished with money, fruit of the jungle
Master painters and artisans of steel come around
With bowls of cool water and cloths to wipe away
Delirium sweats of malaria
They are followed closely by
Children, carrying shrimp and pineapple on skewers
Ice sculptures and chandeliers, carved out of rain,
Dance around in the smoke
The light plays tricks on their appearances
Pictures woven into tapestries
Tell the tales of dark champions, who teach
The meaning of dark truths, through terms like ‘box cutter’
“Now, on to the evening’s entertainment!” they shout
Down into the dungeons and out come the lions,
Crushing entire civilizations in their jaws
The timid are made short work and all applaud;
The lions go off to sleep⠀

These walks on the moon are no longer
The pleasant outings they once were…
Or at least, that they seemed to be
But now, we succumb⠀

Necessary submissions to the
Keeper of forgetfulness;
Due process⠀

I do my part,
Reluctantly

From the book Next by Kevin Trent Boswell, published in May of 2020

Next is NOT for the faint of heart, and is not FDA approved. It is exceptionally habit-forming, extremely volatile, and politically incorrect, generally insensitive and rude, should not be mixed with SSRIs, NSAIDs, NSAs, CIAs, FBIs, or milk. Do not read this book under any circumstances. You will be butt hurt and you will cry. Then, you will pout, and then you’ll climb a clock tower with a potato gun and much carnage is certain to ensue. You have been warned, by somebody else, because I think it is pretty fuckin’ great. But then again, I’m an asshole. Not available in some counties of East Virginia or West Dakota.

Quick Start Guide

Nobody tells you
That all the rules they give you to follow
Are only meant for you and not them
They’re meant to be sandbags to
Keep you from getting ahead or
Becoming happy

You only find this out when you see them
Bragging about how they got something
Only because they were brave enough
To say to hell with the rules

Nobody warns you that the people
Who were supposed to protect you and
Care for you more than anyone else
Will often go to the most extreme lengths
To crush your spirit

It’d be nice if someone would tell you
Ahead of time that some of the things
You felt most confident about
Would turn out to be your
Biggest mistakes

And some of the things you put off
Because of how much they terrified you
Would be the best things you ever did

There’s no owner’s manual that
Gives you a heads up about your friends
How some of them are actually
Enemies in disguise
And others, others will be so dear to you
That you will weep from missing them
Long after they are dead
Or simply drift out of your life

If you knew this, you’d punch the
First group in the face
The very next time you saw them

And the second group, you would
Throw your arms around them
And squeeze them tight and tell them
That they’re the most important people
On the face of the earth
You wouldn’t let go until you were
Certain that they knew how much
You loved them

But in all fairness, no one is able
To accurately tell you who will betray you
So you just love all of them like that
Until you learn who is actually who

Nobody prepares you for the boredom
Of that great new job you landed

Nobody explains why animals
Are more full of love than people;
Except for those genuine friends
We already mentioned

But it doesn’t take long to
Discover these things
If you’re reasonably intelligent
And paying attention

You will find yourself a job
That you can tolerate well enough

You will surround yourself with
A very small handful of those
Genuinely good people and
Keep them as friends, always

Nobody tells you in advance,
The things that turn you on in private
They aren’t actually wrong,
Even though everyone says they are

As long as you only do those things
With the people who genuinely want
To do them with you

If you are exceptionally wise,
You will completely ignore
Absolutely every single thing
That any other person ever tells you
About who, how, when, where, and why,
When it comes to how you go about
Loving another person

Because none of those people
Actually want you to have love

They don’t want to see you giving love
To anyone else, either

They want to see you miserable,
So they can feel better about
Their misery

The only instruction you really need is
Something you already understand:
Don’t do anything that you know
Would break the heart of the person
You love

Even if you are positive that they will
Never find out about it

Unless you are brainless,
You will quickly discover the value
Of animals as friends, and
The benefits of talking to small children
As if they were already adults,
Treating them with respect
And kindness

And you will cut the throat of
Anyone who messes with your
Loved ones, especially if you are
Lucky enough to have that
Very special someone,
Because most people never
Get one of those, because they pursue
Money, prestige, looks, power, and
Cheap thrills, instead

And you will strangle the life out of
Anyone who hurts your friends;
The good ones, that is

Because the bad ones,
You might strangle them, yourself

And you will put a bullet
Through the heads of anyone
Who hurts children or animals

But you cannot save the whole world

This world is a hell,
Broken and irreparable

You are only one person,
And you will go mad
Trying to prevent the infinite,
Torrential, immeasurable
Slew of evil
That befalls all those who dwell
In this miserable, haunted place

So, everyone else…

Fuck ‘em

They’re all
On their own

time to stop

sometimes, the answer is a quiet no

sometimes, the answer
is a quiet no

if there is no water,
stop digging the well

it’s best to listen
when the wind doesn’t blow

when the moon is dark
and the stars don’t tell

Untitled

From the book Out On the Killing Floor

I think I will
Leave this world
To all of the
Scoundrels and villains⠀

Who are without number
Like the stars of heaven⠀

I shall bequeath
The whole of it
To all to them⠀

Especially since
They seem to have it
All under their control
Already⠀

They may have it⠀

There is
No part of it
That I desire
Any longer

From the book Out On the Killing Floor by Kevin Trent Boswell.

This charming little tome of terrible terribles was published in 2021, on Christmas Day, only because I’m a deeply disturbed man.

Be Silent Now

Most people are
Too crazy
To sit still

And let
Somebody
Love them

There are too many
Preconceptions
Requirements
Conditionals
Unspoken
Expectations

Too much trauma

Too many
Feelings
Of guilt
Fear
Shame
Unworthiness

They’ll have a
Knee-jerk reaction
And stop it cold
From the start

Or accept it,
Initially

They’ll go through
All the motions, the buzz that
Flutters through you when you’re
With someone new

But the
Moment
They realize
It’s not ending,
They’re not being
Dumped

They’re not seeing any
Major red flags,
The things that would
Normally allow them
An acceptable excuse
To bow out, step away

When nothing
Unusual happens

When it just
Goes along
Smoothly,
The way that it’s
Supposed to

They find that they’re
Too addicted
To the drama

The constant
Yo-yo seesaw roller coaster
Of the madness
That is most relationships

The steady supply
Of predictable
Comfort
Is just
Too much
For them
To take

So they start
Something

A fight

Or they obsess
Over a need
That they
Never express
With words

Or they project
A belief or attitude
Onto the other person,
One that isn’t in that person’s
Character, interest, thoughts,
Feelings, needs, or wants

But nonetheless,
They convince themselves
That the other person
Started the fight

The other person should have
Known what they needed

The other person was really
Hiding how they truly felt

And they blow it up

Like a marine
Clearing a foxhole
With a grenade, then the pistol,
And the bayonet, just to be safe

Really emptying it out,
Making sure that
Everything in there
Is dead

It’s a fear response

The brain is,
In a strange,
Perverse way,
Trying to
Protect itself

Odd,
Considering

All the damn thing
Had to do was

Sit still

Accept someone
Petting it,
Kissing on it,
Hugs and
Praise

But sometimes,
There just too much
Heartache
Sitting right there,
Fresh in the memories

We can’t separate
The past from the present

Sometimes,
The person will
Realize the mistake
Later on

But the moment
Has passed

The doctor
Walks into the
Waiting room
And says with a
Somber tone

I’m sorry,
They didn’t make it

The body rejected
The donor’s heart

There was
Nothing
We could do

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