Man In The Radiator

  And It All Stops Every morning I wake up into it. Unwantedly forced back into consciousness at unbearably cruel, early hours. Stale coffee spilling out of my sliced throat that has yet to scab over. My upper arm ripped away from the dried pool of blood coagulating between the bedsheets and my serrated flesh. Outside, the birds scream out their innards in a thin stream, surging from their broken beaks as the horizon melts away like an incinerated veil. Behind it are the tar-black trees that so few can see, hooking their anorexic branches around the falling clouds. The scene from my window is like a crudely done autopsy of the corpse of the world. Everything appears to have been torn asunder by some cosmic hand, only to be haphazardly sewn back up with little care, precision, or grace. Just good enough to hold together all that is rotting and expanding with gasses inside so it can be filed away in a sliding silver cabinet with the rest of them. Waiting for someone to claim the lifele

  How Are We To Survive?      I couldn’t believe how much light still reflected off his bruised, swollen-shut eyes. Twinkling pale orange light radiated through the dark, vibrant hues of purples and blues that shrouded what was once his eyelids. If I got close enough to him, I could make out an infinitesimal reflection of myself, as if I was staring into tiny puddles of oil slicks. All the while, bits of his flesh flicked between my clicking, venomous tongue  Just for a wandering, fading flicker of a moment, I felt so intensely close to him. As if our flesh was inseparably entangled and my heart operated from within the mechanical patterns of his blood sputtering from the wounds I gifted him. What a brief, and strange, moment it was. Our vision conjoined. Then, as abruptly as it happened, it exploded back apart. I looked back to myself, reeled the world forcibly back into hideous focus, and saw clearly once again. It was then that I remembered just how much I absolutely loathe him - or

  “ One day Your eggs are going to hatch And very strange birds Are going to emerge. ” - Jhonn Balance  Unbearably Alive I crawled the wrong way through  Embedded myself in the soft, pulsating hills Of your still-forming tissue While stark white walls trembled  And grew all around me  Out from this prenatal mire. I’ll wake in time To conjoin our wounds Feel me scratch away At your connecting faculties, slow stringing up of  The defective you , My twin, my vessel, my weeping cage, With all my pulpy, empty nailbeds.  I can only perch here, Waiting for our time to come. You’re at the widening precipice  A great maw of ruination  That eats away at all flowing, nourishing darkness And ushers in maddening, senseless light. There can’t be any peace in this maelstrom of the living, No acceptance of my halted decay.  Does my consciousness spark from your tongue?  Can that incessant, drooling babbling Begin to articulate this monumental, gestating pain Birthed into your skull?  The epice