In an alternate universe I lost my way

in sizzling neon lights.        they leave ghosts in my eyes.
The soothing burn of whisky.

feminine silhouettes cast by burning "open" signs,         my mind
dies little deaths.
they walk in reckless trance.
A human lumbering, lurching towards another's flesh

The uglier I get, the more beautiful everyone else becomes.

O Death, the seductress!
She will feel the sting in a feather—
penned tattoo

of a thin moon.

Fight me, O Death
I belong to combat.


lust is a leprosy; we hold our wretched skin to the fire for some
comfort in pain.
There is worse than pain, dear one.

caught in the mind's cobwebs
where pain becomes a helper

Come to me, lost soul,
For I am the absence of truth, and I will hold you.

The once true soul is my medicine, and health is transcendence.

my tongue           a runway           for flies