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poetry

For more writing samples, please contact Jessie Miller at: jessiemillersmind@gmail.com

the wrong time is swelling

 

static from the bedroom

my stomach sits by the door

it has not slept

 

a girl screams into the night running water

knowing she has no leader

 

where is your home

if it has three entrances

a gruesome sense of humor

cannot

walk around

you say a lot at someone else’s house

 

an underlying tendency

you cannot hear the music

accidentally

you see something suspicious within this state of flux

 

believing in anyone else

you neglect the crown covering your head

wanting

not wanting

a frail sound creeping downstairs

 

under a deep sigh

the curse of sheets

hides

autumn blush

‚Äč

how could I walk over

when resting right behind her navel

the midnight moon

was a present for me

 

I clung like a skeleton’s hand

and soon the twisted tree began to reek

extremities rotting

because they did not know the question

the aetheric link

 

yes with all my might I warn you

the injury is as irrevocable as your gaze

a friend drug along the beach

making time for chit-chat

and in this night

I ate myself

body up

in the water

I never closed my eyes

 

 

*

 

 

 

her shrouds carried her blushing

another village fell away

no longer able to distinguish color

 

why did it have to be several women

pigeons beyond repair

 

they are all wisps

sapping from uneven sidewalks

believing there’s nothing to fear

another hour

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

you must be exhausted

make yourself comfortable

no here

not there

now hide your costume and find a suitable plank

don’t fall asleep

we’re almost there

 

 

*

 

 

he savored them serenely

as if his mother had brought them in

the reflections in the windows smear with adrenaline

his figure stays

waiting for the girl

 

 

*

 

 

 

your language is broken

if I cannot understand you

I will expect you

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

I combed her hair for her

cotton shirt rubbing against her face

how did it become night

if we have not disrobed

 

 

 

as she muzzled my rebel battleship

I intended to narrow the trail but

 

 

 

*

another dissolution

a blotted lust letter

the whore’s manifesto everyone spat on

the grass aches underneath our feet

the earth is clenching its insides

it cannot be responsible

she is incapable

 

 

*

 

 

dark corridor

a dumpster filled with empty space

 

 

*

 

 

the message units are rusted

and all employees have been dispatched

mass produced words

cheap by any fool

slammed shut by considerable pressure these bins are no longer valuable

rat feces trails lead to remaining life

stitched mouths

and barren elders

why were the stories never spread

the quilt was thrown into the ambers

upon entering the sphere read between these words before MASTER eats each letter

 

 

allow

these words to whisper

within your head as I speak to you now

because fusion

costs more than a human

frame

 

and your mother

must worry

without her loving devotion, and with the potential

to engulf oneself

inside the dark

organic

spaces

 

you are now

MASTER’S shell

and he will disembowel

your current

mirror

 

his grin

constantly meandering down

towards his neck

of bloated wrinkles

from years of dehydration

followed by copious amounts of juices

being pumped

 

MASTER hopes

that you will

admit

need

and become yet another vision

of blankness