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Joshua Sanders Jan 2019
the cold tastes bitter on the wind
blue cigarette smoke hangs in the air
as vague shapes,
impressions of souls
this place is ruined,
worn down and
tilted and
sad

once,
there were people
i think so,
at least

torn apart by
the gravity wells
of the moon,
ferried by waves,
shouting over oceans

made silent,
by the silence
Joshua Sanders Jan 2019
The sound of glass breaking,
shard-rains
Still-sleep keeps my world dim,
in mist
I'm rowing a canoe,
across a black-mirrored surface and--
Someone is yelling
Curses
I pull up at my soul,
drag my mind from
side-to-side
My bedroom door breathes wide
and my fingers twitch
like dying spiders
I fight my eyes open

This is the start
of my day

A bird has flown through
my dining-room window
It ***** uselessly
across the laminate floor,
bleeding in brush-strokes,
dying
then still
Joshua Sanders Nov 2018
Colder
and raining
The wind blows it
through the pores of my skin
I sigh the last of my warmth
as vapor in the fall

Something is there,
in the dark behind closed doors
and shut eyes
Its waiting as I am,
for what?

A fox bleeds in the snow,
leaking to be warm again
An owl lives through the night

I've been dreaming so long
of being a person
I just want to wake up
Joshua Sanders Oct 2018
I stare into the light polluted night sky
Three stars shine through
I see their past
Venus is blinking at me,
a storm of acid rain,
that happened years ago
I see it now

A cigarette, and
my lungs are paper bags
Eventually something will tear
Or break open;
Just stop
I don't know how my own body works
But I know it'll break down
I have a headache,
Or an aneurysm

One day I'll be dust in the ground
Or ashes stuck in a ***

One day those stars will burn out
One by one by one
by one
but we'll still see them,
for a long while

Maybe those stars I see now are already dead:
a night sky filled with ghosts
Joshua Sanders Oct 2018
if i could just organize
                 my thoughts

        better,
                      be better
bitter biting bulging blips burning buying bullied by
                                  Dark,
                                  the deep down kind
Deeper
                empty space with a single light

                       and it goes out
                         and nothing
Joshua Sanders Oct 2018
The field was vast. Empty except  for a man and the thing he was speaking with.

The man was middle-aged, he wore a black suit and a thin red tie. He sat in a wheelchair. He was handsome, in a careless sort of way. His unruly black hair was streaked with grey. His Hazel eyes breathed a dull sort of fury.

The thing standing before him wore a familiar face.

"Hello old friend," the thing said
"Vincent," the man nodded

A storm of Mana danced around the two
mixing with the wind and
the air
small spirits were summoned
into the storm
they whispered in
ether tongues
as they surrendered to
the storms current

The thing had long pale hair and wore the face of Vincent Sena, an old friend.
He was beautiful, with feminine features. His eyes were the color of glaciers: cold and violent.

"I'm glad you could make it, Isaak."
The thing wore a slight mocking smile.
"It must have been difficult, in your condition."

Isaak shrugged, "I manage. It's been a long time, Vincent."

"People call me Muun now."

"Muun. I'm gonna **** you," Isaak's eyes were a feral dog's. "I'm going to peel off that face you're wearing and shove it down your throat." His tone was casual.

Muun's eyes resigned to bitterness, "let's begin then"

Muun raised his hand and his finger grew sharp and violent.
He ****** it into Isaak's head.
...


I've had trouble sleeping lately,

Oh?

Yeah just the past few weeks

Yeah I have something I take to help me sleep

Whatcha got?

Here, the man grabs a bottle full of purple pills and hands him a handful,
I'd only take two at a time

....
Drunk taking Tylenol
for headaches and nothing really
The batteries are running dry
The dust blanketed,
ruins in the making
and rust
and dried blood
and you're all alone
You'll die alone

then nothing
...
/Vincent was always faster, stronger. Isaak held his own, though./
Young Isaak heard his master speaking and grew colder.

...

Burrowing
A pale finger
searching his thoughts,
picking at his mind
Burrowing
Flashes of light,
a dull headache growing
sharper
Burrowing
Find it
Find the river
Follow the current
Twisting, things with razor teeth swimming in it
Keep going
There
It empties into the ocean
Sunlight

...

Vincent lay dead
Muun was breathed out
with Vincent's last heartbeat
The stink of him laying heavy in the swirl of Mana
Isaak burned that shell
and watched the fire with cold eyes
Joshua Sanders Jul 2018
The world has a second skin
Under us, a rythm
Close your eyes and listen
It sounds almost like a river,
but thick,
not sludge but,
viscid

And the things that live there,
They look like us,
but they wear masks,
all beautifully carved and painted
Red and white and yellow

they all smoke cigarettes,
they speak only lies,
violent,
clever,
bright,
and beautiful

They don't pretend
to be good
Or smile when they're sad

They know how to
hold a grudge properly

The insects there
grow to inappropriate sizes
and the cicadas never have to burrow
and the moon is always full
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