we lick disaster off our skin
and flick the needle twice more..
tap the hollow ground as we
find the angle quickest for flight.

spinning on this carousel of
diversion..
and crashing. burning out.
sinister like sleeping dogs
in the heat of night.

phantoms dance circles
around our hearts.
our empty engines of
romantic delusions and
hopeless transgressions
flicker bleakly
out of distance.

closing eyelids to transcend
the infection..

opening doors to let the
light in..

blemishing arms with
scars and mixed feelings
of hope and joy and
something vacant in the
hollow of your spine.

these octopus arms
wrapping mercy in
the depths of saltwater
substances too swift for
me to contest.

you ache for your cocaine..
i’ll cry for the antidote
of shadowy hallucinations
in the hallways of this
phobic dream.

stomping the ground to stop.

spinning to catch the waves.

screaming to hear the noise.

and dying to see something
more than monsters.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others