
destiny is cruel and uncaring
making itself known by
streetlight halo wee hours
leaving restless and waiting
those wraiths that haunt
still the night, unforgiven

destiny is cruel and uncaring
making itself known by
streetlight halo wee hours
leaving restless and waiting
those wraiths that haunt
still the night, unforgiven
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come with me and
let us slumber and
dream without
nightmare or pain
let our winter
bury us under
for long dark nights
our bones entangled
skin drawn tight
let us slumber in
that everlasting kiss
and evermore
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I went to one of the few big bookstores with physical storefronts remaining yesterday. I don’t need to name names. It was not the best experience and I had not realized just how far things had fallen since I last visited large chain bookstores.
Where it used to be shelves upon shelves of books to choose from, their inventory was greatly diminished and nearly half of what remained was only tangentially related to books. Lego. Jigsaw puzzles. Stuffies. Overpriced boardgames. Toys. Journals and bags to carry those journals.
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mouth bound in suture
arms bound to rust
untrust flowing through veins
mortar & bricks mine,
the real horrorshow
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in contraction
pulling back to that
gloaming within
shuttering up spaces
where the light gets in
shush now
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