I met myself in the mirror Only, my eyes Told me I’d grown grey, withered, And died. Skin stretched taut Over bare, vacuumed bone A corpse with a beard No wiser, just old. /// One day I will step Off that precarious ledge, Fall into the void, Crack open my head And under […]Read More The Final Fall
My eyes opened To blistering wind To shards of rain & Blinding light, To the claps of Titans Erupting in bursts Above Around Below. Rods being flung From angry, Olympian fists, Hungry For the Earth beneath, Each detonating A hydrogen bomb Whose shockwaves slid Through the spaces of my frayed, quaking atoms Dousing every […]Read More Float On?
Flat like a deflated manta ray Hugging cold concrete sea bed I’m left to entertain The leaden Thoughts occupying my head Gazing up through azure avenues It suddenly occurs to me Time ebbs and flows like [trapped] water And light refracts just like memory. Stripped to nostalgic caricatures Future skewed, past […]Read More Swimming Pool Rules
I found him swinging in a fresh breeze. He was hanging from a dead tree. -Told me to listen -Asked me to kill him Once he was done, He wasn’t done wreaking mayhem. Glassy eyes drained of surprise He tells me with a settled smile We’re doomed to chase that paradise We’re doomed […]Read More When the bough breaks
Tastes like cold fruit Smells like delusion Feels like survival Looks like confusion. Deadpan daydreams Of darkness, Black Death, Die a little every night Speak in whispered silhouettes Like a wisp of cigarette Toxic and malevolent, Silent and sublime The cancer tasting heaven sent. I’ve been stand-stumbling At the edge of the […]Read More First Left at the Asteroid Belt
I woke up this morning, Proceeded to die, Woke up again, Climbed into the sky. Sat in the clouds As they drifted and dipped Floated through fractals On my candyfloss crypt. The bed beneath parted And through it I fell, Hurtled through earth And landed in hell. Satan wore a suit, A […]Read More Pursuit
Louder than bombs… a round of fresh ammunition spills from the boy’s father, slurred by a coating of cheap gin, but lethal nonetheless. The shrapnel of a mother’s wail impregnates itself in his psyche, bleeding out any illusion of happiness. Leather. The stark, synthetic skin consumes DeShaun Holton, its cold claws chafing against his sandpaper-thin […]Read More “The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions”