my body’s clean but my heart is empty
gorging and cleaving
down to the bone
all yr leftovers
left all alone
milking and bleeding
outta the stone
all my leftovers
congeal on their own
all answers are echoes
can you hear vanities piercing scream?
I think that’s the sound that haunts yr dreams
I think that’s the noise that makes you cry
I think that’s the shudder that makes you sigh
it looks like concrete smeared in shit
it tastes like sandwiches filled with grit
yr squashed like a slug on silent sun
and lets be clear it don’t look like fun
she held me under
when she took me home today
the sky was turning grey…*
Justine n Juliette
“I’m gonna strip her to the bone.. ”
Justine decided, cherry nails stroking
her strap
“send MY sister MY demo,a
year later she’s shaking her fat arse to
suspiciously simllar tunes?”
her suspiciously similar sister arrives,
announcing:
“I’ve come to steal yr fading light”
Juliette’s black nails caress her
dagger
spine
in these granite corridors
bleached in light
all the tiny pigs legs
creep through the night
from yr rumbling spine
they drain yr milk
my spider- babies
will soon bleed their silk
an approaching closure
receiving nectar
from the flies arranged
in rotting spectres
they cut the flesh but
leave no scar
they burn its matter
to feed the stars
as it rakes its lungs with
tales to tell
of silent questions in
in silent hell
the inner-light remains
uninvolved an impulse
blind and unresolved but
its itchy masque of fleshy
tatters reveal the roots
of these twisted matters
the sheathed index
I walk on mirrored angles
broken light insists
I must cross these frozen borders
and upon strange circuits
they melt but persist…*
d+sea is a word wranglin
music manglin monad,
an art-damaged oddball
washed upon the lonely
shores of a post-addictive
consciousness.
an amateur recluse lost
in a cold town counting
his dying dreams whilst
he watches the stars slowly
start to fade.
SICK LIT MAGAZINE 