A crack in the mirror
skewers my reflection.
A world spinning
around me
trying to calm it down.

A fragment of a memory
going nowhere
lacking detail and rhythm.

Hot desert night
candles on the gravestones
A scar on his forehead
in the shape of a cross.

Dreams tattooed with
leaves and whisky.
Razor blades served
with printed instructions.

The worm in the bottle
has magical powers .
Better any day than
a bittersweet message.

Free will a desperate illusion
one which guides our way .
We are all aligned like
the moon and stars
Into the sightless
cruelty of fate .

Standing in the doorway
of the alleyway of fog .
If you ever loved me he cries
show me the shadow
of your mercy .

A vortex lost  in the
black hole of shadows.
The place where silence
was born
in the blood of atonement.

Born ****** in the heat
of the heartland.
The prophet rises in the
swirling dust
raises his arms
and screams .

I try to set the
screams to music .