Point Blank | Art by Aron Wiesenfeld

aron wiesenfeld

This is the point where life drops me off and calls it a day,

And the hurt crashes into me so hard that it tears my clothes off of my back,

My scabs off of my wounds.

I’m left standing in the cold,

Feeling nothing but the sharp wind spiking at my bareness.

I look back at the world and see myself; I look inwards and see nothing.

By Next September | Saturn Devouring His Children by Peter Paul Ruben

I woke up this morning by the

hand of Fortune kissing my open mouth.

Dizzy from her breath,

I shut my eyes and felt my head spin.

She calmed my whirlpooling,

bouncing brain by kissing me again,

and smoothing her hands over my abdomen.

I felt her heat. 

In that moment, of what seemed

a thousand and one electric pulses,

Fortune dipped me in her presence

and bade me never to forget it. 

Forget it.

…how could I forget it ?


 

Peter Paul Ruben

to touch the Moon | Art by Eddy Stevens

Eddy Stevens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s the point of winning if you always mourn the memories that pass.

The sweetest memories…disappearing

reappearing as deformed, twisted freaks,

Conceived by beauty and elephants. Raping Elephants.

Gorgeous memories…

Not forgotten,

but stained deep

in your sanity for never ending tomorrows

and sandless tonights.

Never Again the Sunrise King | Art by Nathan Ota

Nathan OtaI’ve been waiting for the signs,

Waiting for them to lead my life but oh,

My my,

I’ve been waiting all night long.

 

I’ll be sitting under lights,

In the cool early morning sunrise, oh,

My my,

This night’s moving along too slow.

 

Soon I won’t be moving at all.

Don’t call on me for tomorrow,

Don’t call on me at all.