We sail across these barren lands,
firing cannons,
painting havoc across our sight.

With set course amid the ember dust –
eyes set to ****,
burning off the rust.

Listening to last words grinning,
while bones crackle like autumn leaves –
Desert that thrives
with no watered eyes,
no grief.
So dry,
even remorse wilts.

Blasts stirring up the ground,
ash-coated lips,
no sound.

Nothing left to last,
shapeless remains of the past.


without an open sea,
only flames will take us home.
Friendly fire on this deck,
purple bruise on my neck.
phone

Your heel on my arm.
On my knees,
Pressed against you.

You pull the trigger.
Air leaving my lungs,
painting you red.

I drown in pleasure –
and nothing ahead.