Lucid
-
The pages of a book, fluttering in the breeze. Something feels wrong. Something out of place. I’ve been so ill. Ever since she left me, there’s been nothing at all. Faces come and go, but they reek of poverty. Poverty of the soul. Too much cheapness. Too many shadows. Haunted by mistakes, by passing feelings.… Read more
-
Loves dart. Changing hearts and Psalm blah blah. Breaking free of your mother’s curse, you should take my hand and walk with me through the fields of corn and the desert of the real. Parting your hair, I’ll show you the wonders others dare not face. They follow the rules, and bow down to the… Read more
-
Bare feet on the freeway. Absent lovers and blood red lips. Plump and full. Sweat dripping into my eyes, the vehicles speed past so vacant and cool. Killers on the loose, all over the papers. Ink on my fingers, then in my mouth. Crushed metal, and the way her nipples caress that fine dress of… Read more
-
As I place my plague upon her tongue, I tell her that together, we have the power to believe whilst all the non-believers crawl deformed about our feet. Ripping her black stockings, I go ahead and caress the inside of her thigh. Running my hand all along her tender flesh, my eyes pierce the… Read more
-
Scrubbing her skin, she’s stood divided before false mirrors. Excited, a lovers touch echoes somewhere in the back of her mind. The way he used to take her, his hands shedding her clothes to the bedroom floor. It was something I did very well. Crucifix cuts across my arms, the act is initiated with… Read more
-
Symbols and keys to soft machines and madness. They deceive themselves whilst I suck on my cigarette. They chew themselves up as I remove her clothes and see just how lean she really is. I’m not a monster though, I’m just curious. The stars burn behind my eyes, have done for years. The outer… Read more
-
My soul is strange. It’s tender and tired, like an old Welsh song. Yet it’s also so hateful, like a spurned lover left dangling in the wind. Like a discarded rag, caught on a branch of some broken tree. The scent of her room, still so fresh after all this time. Dust and memory.… Read more
-
The secrets of her womb, motel walls painted vagina red. Oh, how the lovers stroll hand in hand, blind and in love. It’s nothing but a cheapened facade though. For their love is false. Born out of boredom, and swallowed up like hospital food. All those burning wheels, turning on the horizon as we fuck… Read more
-
Skeletal blowjobs. Cracks in plastic flesh spreading to the lonesome trees on the corner of 58th Street. Skyscrapers, oozing all the lust and sadistic dreams you could ever think of. Drinking causes flux, it dislodges boredom and makes softened bones feel real again. Painted women. Evil dripping from the corners of their cute little mouths. Lipstick… Read more
-
Clutching at love like it doesn’t exist. In a world of inhumanity, salvation is all there is to cling to. The ones who make you happy. The lover that gets under your skin and into your heart. Close the curtains and embrace her. Let the war go on, let the bombs drop invisibly behind closed… Read more
