I play a part and I speak to the voices inside my head…when I am alone.
I glide in and out of a space of no gravity…
touching the stars and eating the Milky Way.
A Galaxy tastes so good with bitter remorse.
Writing poems for the few who listen. They come and
they go. Not staying long.
Strange writings wrap themselves around
my pen. Slithering their way around
my hand…gripping my fingers with an automated Hell.
Tiny little Forest Trolls claw at my chest and
devour my sour soul.
Say something meaningful
Beautiful Fair Maiden of
the Wrought Iron Horse.
Come with me as I lead you to the Unholy River.
Have all your sins been cast away?
How long can you hold your breath?
As I palm the back of your head.