#connor ross

[pillowcase22]

The comic shop! ep 2 is out

[quietfounder]

All of Dominique's outfits from season 1

[pillowcase22]

[pillowcase22]

[darkdaze76]

Headgame (2018)

[grandmastattoo]

This is my little brother Connor Ross who is pretty good at music I guess

[cherwelletc-blog]

The Pen is a Pretender

Scribbling above that crotch in the fringe of my vision, the pen 

is reminding me I’ve paid for a label of carnal fixation where walls look

like ground-up enamel from over-clenching patients. Sweat

sticks in the clavicle cavity where I tap

my right thumb; I hook the left under one thigh, thinking fuck

my life while the Prozac fairy informs me I’m bent

on my own destruction when really I’m just bent

as hell from an Absolut mess. This pen

pal from Hades wants dialogue over DSM distance but I’m just a fuck-

up or maybe down because I’m still not sure which direction. Look

out! There’s no telling how long I can keep up this tap

dance along the River Styx before I finally sweat

off the fever of guilt and take back the sweat-

shirt you kept. Whoops, now I’ve bent

the pamphlet in my lap so I won’t have to watch Sir Doctor tap

that ballpoint pen

and over-look

how when I used to fuck

you hard, it was just you, and only to prove I could. Well, fuck

those catatonic after-nights light with toothpaste sweat

like mint grit on our gums when we pretended to look

our best and taste cleaner, limbs bent

to support our angles inside a holding pen

for Cytherean performers – how could I not tap

out? I offered myself and you offered me water from the tap,

the unclasped bra grasping a polite cluster-fuck.

You swore the sword is flightier than the pen

before I confessed to biology, yet who stayed? No sweat!

I said it like in the movies. But I craved a Charming bent

over me, too, and look

what happened when you caught me taking a look

and then accused me of wanting to “tap

that”. I reel in the lonely visceral, bent

out of shape after you implored me to go fuck

myself, which I have ever since in a mechanical sweat

with my diagnosis and a clean pen.

So I ask does it look like I give a fuck

when I tap into emotions but forgo the cold sweat

to say I’m merely bent on plain penetration?

-Connor Ross

[cherwelletc-blog]

Sister

The time we puppeteered the kitchen floor

With just a mini box of Frosted Flakes®

By peeling shutters out the cardboard for

Our toothpick “Joe” of melon chunks and grapes

Was NOT like when you spilled my lemonade

While hunting through the couch for pocket change.

PajamaJeans® on infomercials made

These sacramental increments deranged:

Between the fault-flings, tongue flicks, when I flung

- Please know that I intentionally failed -

That old remote you always claim quite stung,

It barely skimmed your pigtail but you wailed.

Convinced once you were apt to smother me,

I now find distance drains the brotherly.

-Connor Ross