K.J. Johnson


Bred in the shadows of a blood-soaked legacy,

My innocence a fleeting notion,

Never within my grasp,

Thieves with badges snatch it away,

Peeling away my nails,

And a chance of happiness,

A brewing, boiling power grows within me,

Spewing fire and rage through my pores,

Fear and anxiety stoking the flames,

Flesh-tearing fangs and a blood-splattered face,

Reflected in a child’s image,

Awaiting the chance to escape,

Cerebral captivity,

And shed the body count of their making.


Work in Progress

Work in Progress

K.J. Johnson


Spellbound in a mist of resentment,

Elderly echoes reminding me,

This would never be easy,

To exit would be to succumb to weakness,

Exhaustion laces and weaves itself into my bones,

Aching to recede into solitary satisfaction,

Though the single, remaining ounce of longing,

Keeps me locked in place,

Sifting forgiveness through heaping piles of betrayal,

Slowly falling in love again,

No longer seeing your many indiscretions,

Reflected in your apologetic eyes,

Choosing you over easy,

Choosing to stay.



K.J. Johnson


My lips are sticky from sloppy kisses,

Stained with lip balm,

Inhaling your harsh vapors,

Middle finger waving high and proud,

While my pride and inhibitions,

Become fleeting reminders of when this game,

Made sense, when I was in control,

Of my actions, immune to the bite of your tequila touch,

The silky smooth stroke of your rum,

And the blunt reality of your whisky mouth,

Setting my throat ablaze,

My eyelids droop under your influence,

Shakily strolling on a tightrope miles above,

My common sense, yet inches from your grasp,

Struggling to walk straight,

Inevitably giving in and,

Awaiting the next round.

The Sponge

The Sponge

K.J. Johnson


A tumultuous classroom,

Overturned desks and broken chairs,

A childhood, surrounded by crumbling walls,

Constant ringing in my ears,

Soothed only by raised voices and confrontation,

Tainted lessons of relationships bred from dysfunction,

Right and wrong delivered in reverse,

Mistakes and short-comings met with bruises,

Growing pains they say,

Seeking distractions from toys and television shows,

That could never understand,

The perpetually fresh wounds of my every day,

I tell you this not for sympathy,

Seeking no amount of consolation,

For when you wring me out,

Watching my scars, tears and blood shower the floor,

Your questions have already been answered.



K.J. Johnson


How does it feel?

To know that you dominate my thought process,

Spinning your web,

Orchestrating my every move,

A tactician placed in my path,

With the sole purpose of control,

The thrill replaces my blood and air,

Spiraling into a realm of sensation and nothing else,

Nerve endings singing to the rhythm of your choice,

I withstand the most daunting trials,

To bask in the rations of your lust,

A reward as simplistic as it is satisfying.

Cast Out

Cast Out

K.J. Johnson


A room teeming with eyes rolled into vacuous heads,

Egg shells crunch under my cautious steps,

Upturned noses and broad backs greet me,

With a hypnotic lure, pulling me to the exit,

Bewildered by intense isolation amongst a crowd,

Of ghosts floating in my peripheral,

Faces blur, pushing me to question my sanity,

My need to belong,

Short of breath as they press me,

Against the cold wall,

Biting fresh goosebumps, rivaling the violent chills,

In my bones, will they break?

Battling demons of introversion,

The catalyst to my arrival,

All to be chained to my shadow,

Trapped in coerced solitude.

The Surgeon

The Surgeon

 K.J. Johnson


 Blinding white lights burn my eyes,

Intense from a raging passion in your aura,

Your masterful fingers run along your collection,

Of smooth and serrated edges,

 Choosing an instrument suited for reaching my soul,

You tell me to count backwards,

Focus on the arousing movement of your lips,

While your signature scent sedates me,

Lulling me into a peaceful surrender,

Precision and skill guide,

The carving of your name on my heart,

No space for future edits,

Mark your territory,

Let them know it’s yours.

Park It…

Park It

K.J. Johnson


Pages teeming with barely-dry ink,

Bound in a black cover,

Bursting at the seams with options,

My competition, your menu,

Haunting my nightmares with perfect, dark hair,

Bright eyes, kissable pouts and indefinite libido,

Tongues dragging across their fangs,

A bloodlust to take what’s mine,

Predators deprived of a good hunt,

Their claws glistening with a crimson glow,

Does not my light shine through their bullshit?

Have not the overused tools exhausted you?

The effortless way in which our skin melts together,

The unison nature of our heartbeats,

My sharp blade cutting through your sarcasm and indifference,

Through the fog of abuse and disposal,

You saw me, for a reason,

So take a seat.

Nowhere to Run…

        A harsh banging on the front door startles me awake. I’m suffering from the confusing, disorienting feeling of being woken up abruptly. For a few moments it is silent again. I roll off the couch and begin dragging myself to the door when the banging starts up again. My hand is inches away from the doorknob when I realize that the Black Suits might be on the other side. My heart is pounding and I feel like it might jump out of my chest. I know that I should answer the door and go willingly, but now that the moment is here I have an overwhelming urge to run.

        Going on instinct, I dash toward the back door. Before I’m clear of the house, I hear one of them kick through the door. I turn for a moment, which is long enough for one of them to spot me—there appears to be a total of three. I run around the house and set my sights on the jungle. It is familiar territory for me, and I should be able to lose them in there. I’m running faster than I’ve ever run before—approaching that speed where I could easily fall, but I stay on my feet. Even though there is a considerable distance between me and the Enforcers, they are still tailing me.

        Soon, my fear begins to fade into a strong will to escape. Along the way, I’m hoping that a panther or jaguar will attack them, but none appear. I pass my plot and within minutes I’m passing the volcano altogether. It must be the adrenaline that is keeping me at this pace for so long. The only thing I can hear is my breathing and the pursuing footsteps. One of the Enforcers tries to shoot me but the bullets bury themselves into a nearby tree. Barreling through more wooded area, I come to the waterfall and my fear peaks.

        I have no idea where to go. It was foolish to think I could get away and I immediately regret it. The Black Suits are almost here, so I turn around and lift my hands in surrender.  The first two enter the clearing and tackle me while the third draws his gun. I think to unleash my heat wave, but that will only make things worse. One of them pins my arms down while the other begins to brutally choke me. Losing more air by the second, I try to free myself from their grip. This makes no sense. Why would they want to kill me if I’m supposed to work for them?


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Follow the Rules!

One of the worst things about the Research Facility is the lack of clocks and windows which makes it impossible to know the time of day. Even as tired as I was, my sleep didn’t refresh me in the least bit. My nightmares were particularly vivid as well. In looping reruns, I had to relive the removal and my meeting with Officer Hills. There is no escape from the craziness and this is only the first day. As drained as I feel, there are a few promises I make to myself. I won’t allow the Enforcers to get to me. They are driven by hate and the pain they can inflict on us, so I can’t give them the satisfaction of reacting. I will focus all my energy into training to give myself the best chance of survival.

        After a mediocre breakfast, I take a much-needed shower. The water runs a little weaker than the one back home, but I have no other choices. Once I’ve changed back into my sweats, I sit back on the bed and read the rule book. On the first page, they cover the basics: two meals a day and an hour in the Recreation Room. While reading the remainder of the booklet, I discover that the rules are just as bogus as I suspected.

  1. Deviants must attend daily Guidance Sessions.
  2. Deviants must NOT use their abilities outside of Guidance Sessions under any circumstance.
  3. Deviants must NOT use their abilities to attack any Research Facility Official.
  4. No conspiratorial acts against any Research Facility Officials.
  5. Failure to abide by any of these rules will result in the most severe of punishments.


        The primary lesson I get from the booklet is that I have to graciously accept anything they throw my way without retaliation or I’m dead. Essentially, it is a free pass for the Black Suits to kick my ass as often as they please. These people truly have no shame. Out of frustration I throw the book into the wall and place my face in my hands. Before the Enforcers come for me, I decide to meditate for a bit. While sitting on the bed, I fold my legs together and begin my deep breathing. Immediately, I realize just how severely the removal has affected me. After multiple attempts, I’m simply unable to clear my mind. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are the faces of my family.


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