Headline Poetry & Press

In the pit of my stomach
The devil lives in there
With a barbiturate honor system
A bipolar at bedrest
The schism from our chords.

I am the constant fire
An arson in my heart
A glowing through my skin
Pale hands and drowning glow to my face
We all fall like feathers, and lead to a poisonous bite

Phantoms in flames
An exaggerated fright,
Respect when feared
Bricked out the wind to keep me from spreading

Like the churning magma under all our feet
During neurosis we shake these windows
From glass down to sugar
These infections run deep
The spells of a marginal magician

Now we are all burning the flea circus
And watching them scream,
Watch them wrestle the air
And just try to clip the wings of the disease

Photo by David L O’Nan