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 Oct 2018 Zizaloom
Al
Beaten down
 Oct 2018 Zizaloom
Al
Torn in two, stripped to the bone, head's rewired, thoughts removed.

Your flex in a reflex, reactions to action, she preached in the precinct whilst craving creation.

A submariner survives in daytight compartments, his thoughts become deeper, she prays for his relief.

Hermetically altered the gold-dust is spinkled, as the fish keep on swimming blue in the reef.

Broken down, and beaten... this egg's cracked in two.  Reborn in an instant, cappuccino's still new.
 Oct 2018 Zizaloom
Phi Kenzie
Observable words
turning in circles
perfectly working
affirmed in impermanence

Serpents within swirls
swerve in the verve
curvature burned irksome
turbidity skinned earnest

Journal pearls quirked
turpentine turbulence
since worries serve nervousness
the cure in spurts of churlishness
 Oct 2018 Zizaloom
Grace Conde
I exist
on the border
between Reality,
and the Imaginary.

I breathe in belligerent Black,
and Withering whites.
I am incapable of grays,
a gradient of gruesome Grief.

I dance on the Border,
exhaling exuberant fragility,
my border is made of glass.

And I rise from the ashes,
a Byproduct of the
bridges I've burned.
Craving soothing touch,
Yet silently seeking
Incriminating Isolation,
Addicted to my own destruction.

A shattered soul dutifully
Dances on the Border,
Held captive by her sins.
Trapped between Good
and Bad. Happiness
and Heartbreak. Lost
and Found. Death
and Resurrection.

Born on the Border, a
Simple Figment of
Immoral Imagination.
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