there is an
itch in my chest
i can’t tell
if the seeds
so carefully planted
are growing
or if the rot
is spreading roots
throughout my
derelict soul
hazel blossoms
sprout cascading
deadlight serenities
onto the toxic
fecundity of hope
where corpsedreams
flourish in the
darkness showering
from weeping wounds
furrows carved
into the fetid skies
to bleed eternity
across your
wavering heartbeat
new growth trails
in sorrowful pods
radon scented kisses
flashfry synaptical
longings in a haze
of x-ray delusion
brittle bones
in a shower of
crumbling wonder
as i wait patient
for the coffee
to percolate a
soft symphony of
syncopated contusions
a flower garden
filled with serpents
ready to strike
among the pungent blooms

i didn’t sleep
yet i was not
fully awake
when the angels
cut through the
solemn truth
with flaming swords
in divine distaste
the day begins
with an array of
corrupted splendors
graffiti sprayed
in moribund disasters
to tinge the land
in hellish dismay