Visions From Hell

Wanting this but still I don’t know how to let it grow the way a toddler tears a bud apart to make it bloom stunned when it's gone while they hold petals torn to rags.

Take that useless shiver of heart with its occluded kissesscratches and botched surgerieslaid like a relic and forgottenout of its mildew velvet bed.Lift it out and clasp it, savour its uneven bite across the fault-lines of your hand, where memory aligns with hurt;its allyship of pulse and blood.How often will you break this pact,how many times do you have left?Swear again that you willnever…

pub. Mugwort Poetry ed. Kate Garrett 19.07.25

I mapped desire on the tor,brought down the moon as the woods writhed and stars unravelled. I recall a pair of eyes, cold as the Atlantic crashing on the cliffs below;as I kept watch over my ship decked keel to bow in lightsbright as the pole star: pitching with the deadweight of my stowaway faith.

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If the horizon with its low cloud like unleavened bread and wall of rain fills you with dread for days like fate in coffee grounds inside an upturned cup, where each spill is a road not taken yetsmash it against the door for luck.

I have not been kind to you but you've stuck around regardless of the beatings I've allowed you to receive, blows so hard they've knocked me out and made me piss.I've made you carry impossible loads, but you keep taking it.Through you, I summoned the soul circling the infinite, into this world; through a surgical cut, wide and curved like the blade of a scimitar.Walked and walked, and anticipate…

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From the earliest age I was saved from my body and its queer thoughtsthe way a staked rose is laid in undeviating rows along a high brick wall and pruned with devotion,so it doesn’t grow wrong.Taught to extend my arms in blessed perpetuity, my buds open and break apart like empty hands. Beyond my stunted reach wild balsam grows unchecked in the heat of long days,drones heavy with stoned bees.

Crow masters the phrase'Happy New Year', dispensing it with the correct amount of social currency between the fallen apples, luminous as planets in the snow tonightmaking their roundswith that faux fur coat black eye, bad credit score unfinished poetry collection swagand grateful for each shiny act of kindness offeredwithout gain or judgement.