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IPM Apr 2019
Behind dropped curtains roads lay
where automobiles ride
and day and night they pass by,
but a blind man I am,
sound only pierces through
into a graveyard
grey fills my room.

I crawl alone between
the guts that spawned me once
what wondrous sights twist
turn behind          lungs hollow
screech and swallow fingernails
burst
open chests, crimson lakes flow
heads follow, rolling on train rails
small creatures, critters, in litter jitter,
buzzing in my ears-
what's this? The sudden plague appears,
Rats! **** them as they near. I yell:
'Oh mother, please, push me through the womb! - succumbed, I numb my senses.

Many men came to this land to test the faith that guides their hand,
their holy father stands high above
straps our merry troupe onto wood chairs.
Three days and nights, yet still they stand
fluids mix under their seats - the smell of sweet release and a finale closes
flies flock outwards all eyes above.

Drums beat again, retreat - absurd.
War roars, clashing steel and swords.
On top - the mountain cries, run, run
it warns, run red - ground to dirt;
amidst the battlefield
a mouse -
hidden with the dead, observe.
He raises            cautiously           slowly
'Halt!'
'Where are you headed rat?'.
Chased on the rocks, no way, no saviour awaits.
A sting then hit - the stink of **** but faded, persuaded by horrific dread..
it picked a rock and smashed his chasers'
head.
Rattle, rattle little bones, pieces of mind cover the boulder, one by one drop-
drip on the shocked grimace.

Menacing nether realms corrupt
bend, curve physical matter
through all the pain, disguist and guts
shattered be the particles, atoms
left inside a whole black cylinder
to be transported in another universe as dust.

Worried blinking disrupts the dream,
smell of lavender flows in gust
yet still I am
strapped,
in this greyish land
awaiting tempting doom.
IPM Mar 2019
I pick the pen
then drop it again
and again and
aga
IPM Mar 2019
Uni
I tap the screen and watch a clock
tiny 0's and 1's
1 PM passed, tiny taps click from my pen
oh, how I wish it would go through
the ethmoid bone in my brain.
IPM Feb 2019
My bones are turning
dry,
       breaking,
on the silver rope.
My flesh decaying
dry,
       cells,
blackened dirt.
Foul meat
drops,
        beneath,
the hounds hungered long.
IPM Nov 2018
~~~

My gut spirals swiftly
downwards the twilight zone
a throne of skin and bone
speaks
"Thine sin you must atone."
Sat down, below red skies
above my head, familiars
reflection shines in eyes
of thousand flies perched atop rotten meat.
I rip my heart out and eat
it too.
Ignites a fuel deep inside
the hollow depths of this mind.
A darkness rose, roamed long ago
here
speaks to me now:
"Fear not what is to come,
sacrifice the living,
**** the young, burn their lungs,
eat their tongues an-"
"What madness is this?"
aksed my image
the ghastly apparition
"This plane is not unnatural,
tis' only a future you invision..."

~~~
IPM Nov 2018
I don't wanna feel this anymore
seeing your face like this before
it's more than a symbol
more than I know of
this feeling called love
can only be described with simple gestures,
not words.
IPM Oct 2018
Extravagant silver locks fly
feathers in the sky-frame, gaggle of geese
stears towards sunsets of yesterday
greyish tentacle hand figures
shadow puppet men conceal
the ripest of minds
ate limes
on trifling gates constantly conflicted
contagious curtains ceremonial currents cravenly libertine auspicious precepts extolled hither dispiriting flourish apostate gallantry divul@() 56$#sZ..*,"(6#-?@!!12%kad6':
Make what you will of it.
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