Thoughts,

stirring from the under-muck w

                                                 r

                                                     i

                                                g

                                          g

                                              l

                                        e

Through my brain

Those

Pestilent murmurs

From the murk (that lurks unabashedly below)

Slink out in long

Pauses

To

     Knot in my abdomen and

Run circles in my mind

How am I to incinerate them,

When the vestiges of their slime are still dripping in my entry way?

They slip in,

     Slyer than the vanishing of days, to

Make maelstroms in my stomach

I feed them, and

Whip them faster;

They sniggeringly oblige,

Churning the waters into rapids and pulling me faster and faster until

I cannot fathom how to hop off at this speed

I have lost mastery of my mind

-E.J. Hutchings

Shatter mirrors

And greet the contents of the looking glass;

Meet a miasma of mindlessness

Mindfulness?

Madness.

Paint a rainbow with colors you never knew existed

Can you fathom the fragments now?

Of light refracting off endless waves

Or oily puddles

Or what’s swallowed in a hollow gaze

Hollow to hallowed

Through adulation and ajoutation of

An empty shell

A crucible now

Make the mold and fold a thousand free-flowing particles into

your grand design

I see no divinity there

Only a smoky smile with dead eyes

And the sickly sweet scent of

a putrid,rotting rose

While the ever-sighing waves caress the sleepy shore

Eyes ring deep of stormy seas

And fingers twitch to chase the tempests gale

Nights can be cold and quiet

With frozen stars and

Shackled breath

But morning sun strands

Waltz with foggy tendrils

I heard a ticking

One night

As my mind lay as much a scatter strewn as the sheets from my sleeplessness

I was pondering the sheep

I passed everyday on the street

Wolves and sheep alike in crisp cut suits

I couldn’t possibly fathom the number

And it was they who looked more asleep

The ticking continued

I couldn’t determine whether

My mind or my chest was the culprit

My viens thrum with golden streams if electric words

Can bleed myself dry before the time bomb catches me?

The explosion, unknown

It drowns me in it at night

Is it any wonder I scribble the sum of my neurons until the sun?

“We are all going”

I want to choose the bloodstain I’ll leave when I’m gone

I’ll choose my pathway if not my vehicle