Standing in the middle of a dimension

These be the doors to where it ends, Sister Rose and her omnipresent thorns scratch cataclysms into skin Benevolence begat the violence inconsequential, this monolithic cross to bear, to bare sunstarved soul upon canvas it is reticence, a fear that binds oh and the chill, blue as ice of mighty Titan formed from things colder than any winter storm arrogance, the insistence, tugging of lines that pull the mind into spaces below tresses of vines being insular, convocation of isolation little by little, bit by bit, steering ship a bit further from shore and homes and laughter wont to want … Continue reading Standing in the middle of a dimension

ragged harmonies

I have shitty person syndrome.  I finally got free but it flares up occasionally.  I would sing you a wish but that’s just wishful thinking…remember that time I tried to make you fondue ’cause I knew you were fond of it too but it turned out like fucking glue and so I used it to put up flyers for that missing kid.  I saw a murder of crows today and I swear they were flying sigils of Enochian majic.  Stop, don’t tell me I’m crazy and yeah I know what it sounds like.  she’s never coming back.  I can’t stop … Continue reading ragged harmonies

Hope, resignation

you ignited famine, unintentional or not.  We’re starving.  That masochistic flair you dearly love to wear finds us indebted.  We are caught somewhere betwixt hope…..resignation.  whose crucifixion is fair  I DON”T CARE  meek resolution and dirty dish water hands.  Your labia doesn’t speak anymore.  I may have Tourette’s of the soul.  There was a dream where my chest was fire and I was choking as something was crawling up the back of my throat.  I vomited a cancerous snake, dying.  It had two heads and our eyes.  I cannot for the life of me understand what it meant. My otherface, … Continue reading Hope, resignation

hey, Brooklyn

hey Brooklyn I heard your voice the other day radio man said that you had made the Big time that’s mighty fine for you hey Brooklyn how have you been? I can’t sing but I though I’d write you a song how are you holdin’ on we’re too far gone to cry now we’ve been too long apart. seven and change since you said goodbye the future always seems to pass me by it’s lonely here I thought I’d let you know never wanted any tears or sorrow not from you maybe, that’s partly true I kinda hope it makes … Continue reading hey, Brooklyn

worm

immobile artifice immoral statuary of curled lips ponderous predilections hammer gamma rays into collar-bone shards of lust and fallacy, phallus shaped skiffs upon stream of consciousness running toward empty seas of tomorrow buy yesterday to change the way you dress and advertise lies you should think upon all that is said and read red doesn’t always mean blood hounds on scent of peonies in the garden behind your house where you buried past and the next door neighbor nobody knows trouble you’ve seen just like the song keeps playing on every station based in this town you keep living like … Continue reading worm

Solemn Zeros

In summary, there was purpose prefecture, pandemonium, permanence fingers frayed stitching ignominious example in grocery-cart aisles uncommon disorders frequently populating God-deserted isles unexpectedly, the vase fell from table untouched it shattered flowers and pottery scattered across the floor as galaxies flowed into void This was all observed and information was documented, annotated. interpretation lost in antiquity, impressions ripple as a neutron star quietly sending out gravitational waves, confusing possibilities of other extents. so often, life will take what we think we know reduce it to a solemn zero; leave us with nothing other than faintest of ideas a notion of … Continue reading Solemn Zeros

Future is the past is the future past

two moons and two suns implications of movement abrasive, heaving of iron lungs implicit in the breathing archetypes assail conclusion finding is desolate and broken desensitized neuromancer weave cords of copper a burglar is re-imagined smoking jacket highs confounding orbs can no longer absorb refraction of everything now only comes in pieces cement is colder than one would think flood is more than earth can drink when did life become a story with such furious editors retake the scenes reality indebted to shadowed creditors no longer aware which of us won. in-between two moons and two suns image courtesy of … Continue reading Future is the past is the future past