The dream so vague yet vividly
Reoccurring untill in focus.
And there you are
Your face
Your shades
Your smile
and you spoke.
The sound of your voice, nautical across my spine
Quelling the day's toils in my mind.

But now acutely awake
still wanting to be hear your voice
still wanting to see your enchanting beauty.
It's a shame hands of a dreamer grasps only air.

I wish my tactile hallucinations would give me a massage,
A warm hug from my non-existent mother,
A kiss from my long distance boyfriend.

A twisted fairytale

My hallucinations
They know what I fear most
And they want me to be afraid
They feed off my terror
They get off on my sick brain
They know what torments me.
Arachnophobia’s favorite game to play
The spiders
Come out of
My skin
They’ve been waiting patiently
When I’m most vulnerable
When I’m isolated
When I’m helpless

I wish my tactile hallucinations would
**** me

usually, i see you in my hallucinations
when i'm too high to think about reality
but now, i see you all the time

during sunday afternoons sitting next to me on the floor reading the old love letters you wrote me

standing next to the fridge watching me how i make myself a cup of coffee to taste something else besides the taste of your lips

at night, you're even laying next to me and you're smiling at me like you used to

&' even tho my bed sheets were washed endless times after you've laid with me on them, they still carry your fragrance

and every time you appear anywhere by me
i start talking to you
i tell you how much i've missed you
i try to admire you as long as i can
'cause i'm afraid that at some point
i stop imagining you
forget about your face
that some day you become a blurry memory
inside my head
and that even the drugs cannot bring you back

stay

Loose Knit
by Michael R. Burch

She blesses the needle,
fetches fine red stitches,
criss-crossing, embroidering dreams
in the delicate fabric.

And if her hand jerks and twitches in puppet-like fits,
she tells herself
reality is not as threadbare as it seems ...

that a little more darning may gather loose seams.

She weaves an unraveling tapestry
of fatigue and remorse and pain; ...
only the nervously pecking needle
****** her to motion, again and again.

Published by The Chariton Review, Penumbra, Black Bear Review, and Triplopia. Keywords/Tags: Addiction, needle, veins, stitches, red, blood, ******, dreams, hallucinations, seams, darning, tapestry

seeing **** that isn’t there,
hearing **** that isn’t real,
memories can’t be trusted.
the shadow people,
that used to scare me,
now long to be dusted.
9 pills down the hatch,
9 pills swallowed to cure me.
they stick inside my throat,
“They’ll start to work soon,
Just be patient.”
as they write another note.
the doses start to increase,
my tongue starts to spasm.
my hands shake as well,
i thought these things
we’re supposed to heal me,
instead I’m in living hell.
“Benefits do outweigh
the horrible side effects”
is what the doctors say.
so I keep on taking them,
choking them down,
every night and day.
but the **** is still there,
i can see it, and I can hear it too.
its plain as day, staring at me.
it’s as real as me and,
wait. are you?

The sun sees through us, Star Eyes
Awake, I become dazed
Talking, they're speaking through me
Of monsters that they chase

Star Eyes, stuck in a blanket
The darkness never ends
Behold human perfection
Here sanity descends

Come find me in the ghost nets
Thoughts stinking high with "mur-"
Ignoring all the signs, let's
Harm all that is with "-der"