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Richard Matheson Dec 2020
There is no greater clarity,
No greater freedom,
than a pistol barrel
in your mouth.
Richard Matheson Dec 2020
I purge sans binge
I ***** scars onto everyone around me.
My guilt: a summation.
Now, if I could only figure out why
I keep sticking fingers down my throat.
Richard Matheson Dec 2020
Oh amber, foam-ed memories,
cast about my brain.
The evening tide pulls me away,
sooner than later, I'm afraid.
Richard Matheson Oct 2020
These cells are full
bloated
swollen
the point of splitting,
the membranes taut
rigid with
tension.

Touch me,
ever so gently.

I'll come apart,
a fine mist.
Richard Matheson Oct 2020
I don't know
if the blankets are enough
spindled about my head as they do,
suffocating the desire right,
left,
out the skylight
and into the blood
that sleeps above me.
Richard Matheson Oct 2020
Wrinkle pastel ribbons
into your mouth
right down your throat
into the pink folds of flesh,
down deep.

How can we philosophize,
when we are no better?
Richard Matheson Oct 2020
Coming down the carpet
between Iowa, drawing toes.
You still feel it...
the taste of chlorine (I think so)
5 AM,
              6 AM,
                          Midnight.

She's
up
on
me.

She has descended
her wings bursting forth
like molten metal.

I can't.

I tell her,
"This is the end
of everything,
and if I enter,
I will not survive."
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