Casey Renee Kiser

by Horror Sleaze Trash on September 11, 2017

photo credits: Jasmyn Taylor Givens

Casey Renee Kiser is away from her desk at the moment. She is out riding snails again. Please leave a detailed message (dick pic) and your qualifications for dealing with crazy red heads.



Free Drinks (a.k.a.)


I pick this stability off my skin.

Fucking leeches,

Temporary sanity- good for nothing

but a few paychecks.

I whisper, “Happiness, you creepy fuck, get lost!”

Fucking filth,

layers and layers of lies

and we are only on the first date.

He won’t appreciate my clear thoughts,

a.k.a. madness.

I kiss his blackout lips

only to wake up under his trusting smile.

But I know how this ends for my kind.

“You’re different, you’re special”

turns into Love…

Love turns into Pity…

Pity turns into Resentment…

Resentment turns into…

“Hey, what are you doing to my car?!”

He won’t appreciate my honesty,

a.k.a anger.

Layers and layers of lies…

But for now,

I’ll just enjoy the free drinks,

a.k.a. trouble.





Easy Tonight


Even though we just met,

I’m thinking of being easy tonight.

I mean, it was sweet

how you laughed at my jokes,

which was actually

me talking about my family

but I understand the confusion.

You seem genuinely entertained

by the tragedy in my eyes.


Yeah, I’m thinking of being easy tonight.

Don’t dare

mistake my submission for anything but


For you don’t know,


But you are kinda cute.


not really my type-

Born with luck,

sleeps at night,

expects me to smile,


I would give you a warning but FUCK…

everybody’s luck runs out sometime.





In Only My Underwear


He sits up close to the stage

but doesn’t make eye contact.

He follows my thighs around and around.

He can’t see my bruises.

He can’t see my scars.

Mine are in my mind.

He pulls out his wallet and smiles green.

But money means nothing in my manic state.

I’m not even hurting for money.

What matters is adrenaline.

So what else you got, mister?

My thoughts are racing

and my body just goes along for the ride.

I don’t remember coming here. It’s a blur.

The mania is winning.

…Maybe this is the kind of man I need…

the kind who will take from me

and then get the fuck out of my face.

No bother about dinner. Or romance.

Or ‘Did you take your meds today, dear?’

These thoughts eerily please me

as I drop to the floor.

I’m crawling toward him now.

Crawling toward this sweaty, smirking, married

piece of shit excuse for a man when

I      s n a p       b a c k

What the fuck.

I get up and go home

in only my underwear.




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