Tag Archives: alibi

Blood Clots and Black Holes

Here’s your new drug, shoot it in the left eye
Feel it on the right side, no it’s not love
Though it sets up shop behind your ribcage
Building blood clots and black holes
Like using an axe to pull a sliver from your skin…

~*~

Unresponsive desolation, paralysed in blood and cement

Reactions set to explode, evidences execution half-meant

Excerpts of a circumvented verse, misguided boundaries

Pulses worn, reciting reasons for the living in cemeteries

Incompatible, undesirable, infiltrate my cataclysmic rain

Under issued influences, heroin and butane shot for pain

Crashing manifestos, an intervention set to fucking burn

There’s no point to reflect if there’s nothing to be learned

Covenant of injuries, gregarious dimensions disembodied

Bedraggled carcass averting headlights, a contingency bid

Cold condescension will only covet unconsented concerns

Wasted like a question mark, duplicated hemispheres torn

Bullets traded for breathing soldiers, a parasitic symphony

Beneath the facade of a tranquil noir, an indelible calamity

Again the fugitives sink in violent vices, composed in ashes

My perverse altercation is but an alibi under my rotted flesh.

~*~

And they say this is medicine
An overdose of oxygen
A severed head as sedative
To be at peace would be a sin
And surely un-american
I’m breaking down…

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Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

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