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Anne Shirley Feb 22
rivers billow into sheets of glass
clattering among ferns of feral green,
the wind hushes, wispy ribbons of sodden grey and dusty tuff
dusting its upper lip

swirling fogs close off the bitter cave
threatening unjust peril in its tantrums of gloom

Despair marks the dripping icicles adorning the jagged
gasping for clarity in the midst of sticky residue
brittle carcasses and musty debris birthed in multitudes

rivers, don't fall for their plastic traps
bars and traps of fatalism awaits us
Anne Shirley Nov 2022
I was livid
You were my heaven

A haven of dark boroughs and misty dreams

Should have known
Should have known
Not to trust the
Blood-ranged words of a mortal

Should have known, much
— With time to spare —
my heart froze
Lodged into iron ware
Anne Shirley Nov 2022
the vine spirals
Bound and wound about the temple’s rod
It’s dribbling a
sickly teal stream
Gurgling with spite and

Cocooned in
Darts of birds fell on

Whispering one name over
And over
solidifying into a chant
Booming to the farthest barn
and swirling around
The closest farm

Children sent reeling, keeling
Onto the ***** dank floor

I can hear it now.

“The Raven King”
Anne Shirley Jul 2021
breaks into you

collapses your heart,
folds it like its flimsy

like a dollop of liquid

sloshing in its glass

the drink of the mourning
Anne Shirley Jul 2021
webbed row-by-row,
hanging from pinpoints under the sky

buildings of inky grey and black, swirls
melting across their borders

a shadow of what-if events drained away

breathless, collapse on your back
muted, lolls your head,
hear the monitor

kicking and cursing
from behind the glasses hung over your heavy lidded eyes
Anne Shirley Jul 2021
swish, goes the scraps into the trees
long and gone,
up to your knees

wrists twist, teeth clacks
snapping in dissonant
feelings of deepened anxiety

ropes of gum collect, spillage
springs from the lever, hurtling, slicing through the darkened sky
a second ticking post - (tiny fist smacking the dusty rusty button)

creaks of its broken joints drift in the air
sings its sputtering e-battery, weakly
slowly, staggering
into the sleeping gathering arms of a mother
her broken form splayed crookedly within
the web of glistening pink
like the slimy throat of a monster
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