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There was a pause,
as ticking blinkers permeated the air
and our conversation dissipated.
We’d been running on fumes for miles, for days.

Rounding that starling corner,
the straight road flowed onward,
but twists were dead ahead,
waiting to shift our path slowly.

We knew there was no fuel
where we dared to travel.
The only energy, between us
and how we reconfigure the sky.

Yet sometime into our silence
that violent earthly spinning
gave way to tender caressing waves.
Your key in my hand, the rust of its metal:
fingertips on my chest, my foot on the pedal.

With great grace we gave chase
to that outstretched decadence,
stuck in our headlights.
A mystifying limousine
acting as an unintended catalyst
for living out that reckless dream.
So the drive continues on
and we laughed ourselves one dare closer
towards the love we’ve always shared.

Our dance never caught that golden
standard that carried the wealthy,
but the journey itself proved
to be our own prosperous excursion.

Mile after mile, with the utmost abandon,
and streetlights paced to heartbeats
our chariot slowed, our eyes glowed.
Smile, darling.
Shaken, faulted core
smolders Martian red.
Simple kindred corps:
now dormant, fallen dead.

Endless chthonic shore,
this flaming plague will spread.
Crumbling hillsides roar,
****** echoes reflect dread.

Scent of creation,
of seared marrow bath.
A forlorn nation
razed by angel’s wrath.

Jagged forest
greets narrowed death,
splintered rest
and punctured breath.

O’er the loch,
swollen igneous rock:
the Behemoth slaughters the flock.
Claws rip across veins,
empty eyes forge weeping wounds,
and the Gods did smile.
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/Detaching and relatching,
ever-shifting retinas
* singe the .7mm LCD,
* tattooing their reflection
* onto a surface of light.

Transfixing and addicting
* but cold, barren, and void.

Push ourselves inward,
* never mine the diamonds or the coal./
background: transparent !important;

/
This inane information tundra;
* atmosphere of global consciousness;
* comforting blanket of the uncanny.

Sedated meditation works
* towards rattled harmony./
float: connected nirvana.

/
Plug-in, shoot-up
* Log-on, nod-off*/

display: none !important;

}
“Pick up
the pen son, and
put her at ease.” Get-well
cards for my healthy and reformed
Mother.
Hospital gowns will cloak scarred wrists,
but wedding rings shine, now
more than ever.
“Our love

— The End —