Fuck It | Updates that Suck

Hey ya’ll,

There’s good news ahead – the first run of Fuck It was printed on Monday!

All order were posted on Tuesday, so if you’ve ordered — they’re on the way to you.

Please keep in mind that this particular chap was printed in Germany, so if you’re outside of the EU it WILL take time to get to you as it has to go through customs, etc.

I have a surprise for you all in the next coming weeks, so please stay tuned!!

Biology | Poems that Suck

I want you to cum
inside of me
and say 'fuck it'
to the consequences
because the idea of your
biology and my own - 

of cell and tissue,
swirling strands of
DNA co-mingling inside
my body has become
the height
of romance.

Soul Collector | Chap Review

1I “bumped into” Duvay Knox on Twitter one night as he was joking back and forth with Stephen J. Gold about buying panties on the internet — of course I had to crack a joke, cuz… it’s me. I got to reading his tweets and fell in love with his humor and his style (have you seen his Twitter icon? It oozes sex and a “I don’t give  FUCK” kinda style). When I saw that he had a book coming out, I snapped that little shit up ASAP.

I want to start by saying that I’ve never read a pulp / pulp-noir book in my life. This one is my first; I bought it because Duvay is dope as hell and because the premise of the book tickled my pussy in the right way. I’m not familiar with the genre, so I don’t know how they’re supposed to be written –so,  cut me a little slack if I don’t catch all the fine details.

Book Description

I recognize these can be a little long/tedious for some folks, so I’m going to start bulleting this section for ease of reading (if you’re interested in that kind of thing).

  • 4.25 x 7 inches in dimension
  • Approximately 156 pages
  • Cream colored, (appx.) 20lb weight paper
  • 12pt Times New Roman font (estimation)
  • Matte covers printed on cardstock
  • Glue binding which didn’t crack under my fuckery — no pages lost.

I was surprised by the dimensions of the book – I was expecting a standard 5 x 8 – but, in all honesty, I’m really charmed by it. It feels so nice in my hands, and was easy to shove into my purse and take it with me wherever the hell I was going.


Soul Collector tells the goings-on of Sippian, a young man who died by violence, and assumes the role of Death when he descends to hell. The story follows Sippian through all the fun and fuckery of his rise to the top and the challenges he faces.


I want to begin by addressing the obvious; the formatting errors.

Right around Chapter 9, something happened and the Chapter titles got all fucked up – some of them ending up at the bottom of the previous page, which jacks up the formatting of the rest of the book. Duvay has addressed this, and it’s been fixed — and is sending out free copies of the corrected version to all who have bought the fucked copy.

What do I think about it? Well, to begin with editing and layout formatting is a BRUTAL and tedious job. We’re human, we all fuck up and sometimes after looking at a manuscript for 100 hours, shit just happens.  The fuckup doesn’t take away from the story in anyway — it just one of those weird-ass things that happens. Final thoughts on it:  Seems to me I got a first edition copy of Soul Collector that’s gonna be worth some coin in the future!

Second: The book is dialogue driven. There’s very little, to no, description of people, surroundings, places, things, moods, etc. I’m not sure if that’s a hallmark of pulp / pulp noir or not, to be fair and honest. I do know that I really like descriptions, because it drives me further into the story.

THAT BEING SAID — I didn’t even notice this until my second read through of the book! The story-telling that happens through dialogue is so rich and engaging that it doesn’t fucking matter if there’s descriptions.

Soul Collector is a fast-paced, funny as fuck, SUPER engaging, well written story with twists that will make your head snap sideways.  I loved this so much, and my ONLY complaint is that there wasn’t more to read… that cliff-hanger… THAT CLIFF-HANGER, THO!!!!! I need more. Like… NOW.

I cannot WAIT until Pussy Detective comes out with Clash Books in December, I’m gonna snap that fucker RIGHT up.

If this is your bag — and it should be your bag — make sure to support the author and BUY THE SHIT

Birthday Blues | Musings that Suck


I turned 38 last Thursday…. and it hit pretty hard.

I’ve been questioning doing my PhD – something that I’ve been adamant about doing since I began going back to school 10 years ago – but in the last year I’ve begun to question it…. and, for me, that indicates something’s “wrong.”

I haven’t thought much about it, not until the night of my birthday when I realized that I’m questioning it because I’ve hit mid life (let’s be real, few people live to 100 so 38 and 40 is about middle aged).

I knew this because of the questions I was asking myself; not whether I am capable of the coursework and research (I very much am) but whether I want to spend another five years of my life in school and whether it will give me any further edge in my field.

I can feel it.. ya know? Feel that I’m in some liminal space. That some huge change is coming because my thoughts are changing …. which indicate that what I want from my life is changing. The thing is… I don’t know what I want, at least not right now.

I’m still applying to the PhD (because I love school, and I love the environment of learning), but I just don’t know what I want anymore. Which means that I have to think about what I want… how do I want to spend the next 40 years of my life?

It’s just a weird and uncomfortable feeling… I don’t love uncertainty.

But… I did hear that women’s sex drives take a moon shot in their 40’s… so that’s a bonus, right?

I Wanna Fee that Free Fall | Poems that Suck

I don't know where I'm at
or where I'm going - 
only that I am standing
at a precipice and the
only way forward is 

Instead of feeling anxious
or fearful, I'm fantasizing
about what it will feel like
to finally tip over, head first.

I imagine it will be a relief;
the dropping sensation in my 
stomach - like that second you
crest over the first coaster hill -

and the wind in my hair, 
tangling it all to hell,
as I plummet toward the ground.

What a comfort it'll be to
leave the dust of the old
behind; what a delight to
be carried on the thermal
of a new life.

Site Updates !

Hey ya’ll,

I wanted to reach out and let ya’ll know that I’m taking a step back from PTS.

I know I’ve been a daily poster for a long time – pausing only for a few months when I was writing FUCK IT – but, I’m feeling super burned-the-fuck out right now and the pressure of daily posting is a bit overwhelming for me… plus the new semester looms large on the horizon.

So, I’m down shifting into only posting 3x / week – with “themed” posts.

Mondays: (My) Poems / Prose that Sucks

Wednesdays: Musings that Suck (just basically a catch all for me to keep you update on life, books, rants and raves.

Fridays: Reviews that Suck.

With regards to reviews:

  1. I have reviews booked (no pun intended) until 11/12 – which means there are only SEVEN slots left for the rest of the year. If you’re interested in getting your book reviewed by me (it MUST be either self or indie published! I absolutely WILL NOT read anything published by the big pubs), post your links below.
  2. Come January 1st, 2022 (jesus fucking christ, where did time go???) I will be taking an actual break. About 1 month from posting ANYTHING. That will be when this next semester ends, and I already know my brain will feel like scrambled eggs.

That’s about it… Poem post to come here shortly!

Cover Reveal! | Book Announcement

Hey ya’ll,

We’re getting closer to press – still looking like end of July/early August – and I’ve gotten the cover from Newington Blue Press…..



This is pretty fuckin’ exciting for me – some no name writer getting a chap – so I’m hyped to hell about it.

If you’re interested in buying a copy you can find it here : https://t.co/8RRKsWbqBc?amp=1

Bloodwarm | Reviews that Suck

1I found Taylor on Twitter by chance; a mutual friend re-tweeted one of her pieces, and I fell in love with her style. I followed her and saw that she was hyping her upcoming chap with Variant Lit, Bloodwarm, and knew that I had to get it.

Book Details

Bloodwarm is 23 pages in length and approximately 5×8 in size. The binding is the standard glue and DID crack under my bending. That being said, the pages all remained in their place so it’s not that big of a deal.

The cover is matte with gold foil accents, and is made out of a good cardstock. The feel and look is high quality and professional.  My only “complaint” – if it could be called that – is the red text on the front and back covers. It’s of a hue that makes it difficult to read.

The paper looks like a 30lb cream, and stands up under both fountain pens and highlighters with zero bleed and no show through. The font appears to be 10pt Garamond, so you may need some readers for this.


This is a collection of poems which details the embodied experience of a Black woman in the United States – particularly the South.  Taylor’s work isn’t technically dirty realism – but it’s certainly realism.


They say dynamite comes in small packages and that certainly holds true for Bloodwarm. It’s 23 pages of pure fire. Napalm. White Phosphorus.

This is not a collection for the White Liberal, the Devil’s Advocate or those who claim they can’t be racist because they got a Black ___insert relationship here___. This is a collection for those who have the desire enter into a Black woman’s embodied experience and have the spine to believe what she’s telling you.

This collection is immaculate; incredibly beautiful in its vulnerability and its trust as Taylor allows you into her heart and mind. It’s not something you read quickly – each piece needs to be sat with to mull over the deep symbolism.

The show stopper for me is “How I Take My Morning Tea.” It wasn’t until my third read through that I caught it – the almost invisible text between the stanzas. At first I thought it was a printing error, and rubbed my thumb along the text to see if it’d disappear. When it didn’t I brought the book right up to my nose to look at what was going on there.

There’s a hidden poem here!

To say I was thunderstruck is not an exaggeration.  I immediately recognized that I was reading a hidden transcript (ala Scott’s Domination and the Arts of Resistance), a real-time Code Switch. The brilliant marriage between poetic realism and the Acadamy had me over the moon! This is the kind of shit that I really, really live for in my Academic life.

This whole collection is brilliant, and I’m thrilled to hear that Variant is doing another run! Congratulations Taylor!!!

Now don’t be a fuck face, and go buy it!

Why He Won’t Let You Fuck His Ass | Poems that Suck

If you want to know
the REAL reason why
your boyfriend won't
let you fuck him

up his ass you have
to ask questions - 
deductive questions -

the kind of questions
that eliminates all the
superficial reasons. 

"Do you think it's gay?"


"Are you afraid you'll like it?"


"Are you afraid it'll hurt?"


"Are you worried poop will come out?"


There ya go, ladies. 
Your man won't let you
fuck his ass because

he's afraid his own 
shit will come back
to haunt him.

A Poem About You Doesn’t Deserve a Name | Poems that Suck

They say you can't get 
blood from a stone, but 
you tried to get milk from
my bones to nourish your 

anorexic heart that weighs
love and control in equal
measure on the rigged
scales of parenthood. 

I've grown up in the 
shadow of your buzz
words and catch phrases
for women:


Pronouncing with a 
fascist authority what
women can and can't, 
shouldn't, be or do  

And me trying valiantly
to mould myself to the 
exact form for what you
consider the ideal man -

because women, in your
eyes, ain't shit - so 
that I could garner a
single scrap of affection

or respect from you.
But after 38 years, 
I've finally caught 
on to your game - 

better late than never! - 
and I'd rather char my
bones to cinders in the 
crematorium of my own

righteous fury and indignation
than ever let you back in
the door that I slammed in 
your face last April.