Cut the gas
kitchen’s filling
thread titanium rod
through tab-top spine
and every stand
these eerie tiles
ice a ballooning heart

Clean the baseboards while you’re down, Hon.

Scrub gummed grease
with crooked thumb
inch by inch spirals
smaller each week
until all within reach
has ebbed

Melted tar mantras
tack petal tips closed
seething gas hiss whistle
through pinhole lines
quark-gluon plasma push
swells fitted space

Yes, you’re hanging in the barn, Babe, but we need diapers.

Brimming chaos bleeds
as the gas man waits, masked
blackcherry lips riot
pressed in prayer to the ice
Stiff, snapping branches
invisible steel cable unwind
and then twang surrender
neon strands stun a black sky

Get up, Lazy Bitch, I can’t do this alone.

Swirls twist within
skull-framed abyss
vain inside-out
suicide hurls
against elbow-link walls

I’m alone. I AM ALONE.

No implosion
a simple switch to redress
to cut the flow
as he chokes through tubes
in the blinding in-between
of crystal dark sunrise
becomes nothing

Straight shallow grey
fitted in the hollow
with iron pins and rods

You can walk now, Fucker, make it up to me.

Author: tendrilwise

Hi, I have a diploma in Journalism, I've published a novel, and I am currently studying psychology. My odd way of viewing the world either gets me kicked out of parties or invited to them. Jenn McKay

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s