Hatred animated across canvas faces.
Acquainted with the animus of the populace,
The phantom of repulsive passion silently passes;
An abysmal abomination
Shifting vertebrae with trepidation,
Contorting form and revolting the masses.

-SLuR

Bony fingertips pry,
Cut me open, peek inside;
See the demons where they lie
Dressed in heavenly disguise.
Their feathers tickle my intestines
With sacrilegious sickness.
Bleed me of my illness,
And gift me with forgiveness.
Cradled in the sanctity of Death’s grip,
Touched by hideous intentions
With no eyes to birth a witness.

-SLuR

The only difference is, come spring, they’ll be blooming happily as the night sky stars slowly fade away from me as decaying fantasies.

Always out of reach to my preaching fingertips,
Righteously speaking of a dream,
Whose face they have never seen
Emotionally accusing the obscene,
Whatever that means..
What’s held back by the screen
As it’s sifted assiduously,
I-wish-they-were-forgotten memories
They always manage to creep back inside of me,
As a nightmare, “Aaand.. Scene!”  it’s all imaginary
Just rehearsal on repeat, it’s not happening, it’s not happening
Outside of fluttering eyelids, there’s no monsters in your sheets
Just the ones that breathe against your skull,
No ghoul but, a ghost- a howling specter that can’t let go
It makes its presence well known, in the darkness it is home
And I am merely a guest, in its humble abode.
A parasite on my soul, a gracious host;
Serving anguish paired with laughter as it toasts,
“To dying alone, and rotting with scorn straight through your bones!”

Death, carves a smile upon the eternal scowl scarring the earth.
Though he leaves me at sunrise, after eating hell as sleep’s dessert.

-SLuR

Time, I’ve learnt to waste remembering your freckles and their exact placement across your face, how your hair settles in waves when you allow it to cascade, every drop of inked flesh my fingers crave to trace; Imagining your strength when you’ll warm me with embrace, the way your mellifluous laughter intoxicates and thinking of just how sweet you must taste.

-SLuR

The fuse is lit, wrapped against your wrists
Prisoner of freedom, prisoner of ****.
Grip dissident fists, slip, and miss the government.
An insignificant kiss across unfeeling skin,
Desensitized to the reeling of our unified minds
The serpent, the centipede that dually writhe inside,
Left and right, tickling spite to erupt in minacious laughter
As the herd move along our prayers slither into the slaughter.
Plastered proclamations and pinned ignorance:
“I voted for a puppet” but who’s the ventriloquist?

-SLuR