Tribes painted blue and red

burn the flag before each meal.

The shadow

of the Candlestick

bares stripes 

across the orbital. 

Flame dancing 

to a hollow tune

and encouraged

by a dwarf draft

inching closer. 

Fickle fingers shine

lively dripping with

revolving cause in

the abandoned Theatre.

The dangling sheet

shifts

two steps north

to find footing

underneath Plum’s

wrath. 

Freezing tips of fine

knives peel my skin back

like a banana peel.

Dangling in Limbo

toes flying in comfort

of a home I once knew

cheeks plunging

deep into a shadow

pulling me deeper.

Breathing the darkness in

back of my throat

rushes down

swirls around the soul

and leaves before

my toes can touch

Earth.

I hear the call

day or night

mostly during the hail

I hear the call.

It comes and haunts me

like my shadow,

follows me around,

like a nightmare.

The ring and the voice

on the other line,

I hear the ring,

everywhere I go.

I found different versions

of myself

stored away in pockets

like lint

and bottom of caves

like Silence of the Lambs.

Dealt a pair of sixes

in the bottom of this pit.

Flipping a coin

two feet

switching between

light and dark

like a light switch

in an instant.

 

 

Window filled purple haze

traffic lights blend together

with no red white lines.

Crescent gaze through

stuffed clouds onto unfazed

cheeks moved through a

paused city.

Blue and pale illuminates

the brow ridge, unfazed

by the flashing faces,

unaware they stand still.

Seeking refuge in a case of Belgium whites

until baron night terrors turn glamorous.

Tidy line(s) making

toy soldiers march

through open canals

to mute beaches. 

Retro timing strikes

nine on the battle

clock

that restless alarm

screeches, wake.

Battles with daily

motivation leaves

tan lines around

naked eyes and

bruised ribs.

They march on

and on

and on. 

Sapphire vortex steals

the light from pit

and blinds the night

yet to come.

Crystal clear vision,

reflective pool,

can see the footprints

in the sand.

Steely glare cuts

the words from

the jaw and leaves them

fleeing for a second taste.

 

Dancing between life and Limbo.

Staring two hundred tons

in the headlights.

Dozens gaze into Limbo’s eyes

stepping into Violence,

just toes into a pool,

testing the water.

Bubbling jacuzzi, steamy

from the eyes,

blood-shot, and

already leaving this

Earth behind.