Sentient-Radio

In the black recesses of a depressed mind I saw myself                       Reflected                                         Refracted                                                           Fractured Torn by shame and pain across a field of thought, A literal literary self-portrait painted by the one Who came before, a vision in white with a shaven skull. I embrace your beautiful lies which speak Of normality                       And functionality,                      Of progression And regression, Which suggest I might one night be able to sleep In my own bed instead of this lead-lined coffin You call a hospital room. The

The winter winds stole my heart And bound my tongue in chains of snow So the words in my throat froze, Leaving so much left unsaid. The springtime showers swamped my soul And drowned my feelings in salty tears Until I heaved my heart into my mouth And tried to keep afloat. The summer storms took my eyes And left me cloaked in shadows Of my own creation, where hooded figures roamed The graveyards of my heart. The autumn air woke my spirit And convinced me that I could breathe again. I opened my mouth to taste the air and Released you from my lungs. The winter winds came again, But I held my heart to my chest and the warmth Burnt a

Might I twist around your fingers, Like the ribbons you once wound in my hair And that flew free behind us as we ran Hand-in-hand through golden fields As the summer died at our heels And the winter of our malcontent Edged closer with every passing moment. But we could not run forever, and soon You tired of our flight and fell from my hands Like the apple of Eden, rolling away from my touch And leaving me alone with forbidden knowledge And a wall between you and I.

They tell me that I’m going blind, I tell them that I’ve never seen, Been stuck inside The black and white Wishing that I was free. They tell me that I’m going crazy, I tell them that it’s just me. I’m trying to say maybe But without you baby I’m just getting high on LSD. They tell me that I must be stupid, I tell them that I just love you. Vodka, cherry and lime, With those white powder lines, It’s just the things that you do. They tell me that I need to know That my baby, he’s flown away. He had another girl In another world, But I was hoping that he would stay.

Roses fall like glistening snow In a summer-storm where the rain Falls from behind your eyes and that Knife-gash smile lets forth thunder That consumes the night sky with Burning passions and twisting shadows. Lightning flashes from beneath your Storm cloud brow, bringing forth The promise of rain. The smell of it, Wet on the pavement, fills me with The desire to put on dress as white as Ice-melt and dance with the ghosts Of friends I once knew. The roses are still falling, thorns Filling the air and making the earthen Skin bleed from a hundred-thousand Papercuts from which flow crimson rivers Whose coppery waters are awash wit

   “Are you done out there yet?” Old Woman Josie called out, turning in her old chintz armchair to glare at the Angel in the hallway. It was staring quizzically at a lightbulb which flickered occasionally. Josie sighed, pushing herself out of her chair and moving towards the kitchen. She left the TV playing a rerun of The West Wing she’d seen a hundred times before.   “It needs replacing, you idiot.” She snapped as she opened the fridge. She took the half bottle of whiskey from it, reached for a tumbler from the cupboard, thought better of it and took a swig straight from the bottle. She turned around

It started with lines, purple and pulsating. They connected together and formed an eye, enormous and glowing and closed, surrounded only by blackness. It hovered in front of him, and he too hovered in endless nothing. Then the eye opened, revealing a pupil that burned with unholy light. The eye grew larger, the flames of the pupil burning brighter until they surrounded him and threatened to consume him. He could feel the fire licking his skin, and he clenched his teeth against the pain. He tried to hold it in, but the pain and was immense and he let the cry come through the teeth. He always did. When the first cry came, the scene changed 

Your words they spill from between Broken teeth that I shattered When we were four, just four teens Playing at my back door. Laughter comes so easy to you and The corner of your mouth lifts in that Sweet half-smile I found as beautiful as Butterflies in chloroform. The sunlight spills across your hair, Setting the chestnut grove ablaze with Shifting shadows and molten tones That move like liquid nightmares. Blood spills from your mouth and I taste the sweet copper as our lips Meet in the no-man's-land between Lovers and friends, a twisted bloodied kiss. Let me taste you once again, my frozen lips Crushed against your warmth as our

Above me a black planet glitters in the night sky, A celestial giant with a surface covered by burnt trees. Its mountains are ice, its forests gone, and its people ash in the wind. All that once was is gone, leaving nothing but a husk. A blackened shell; a monument to entropy. There is no life here. Well, that is not strictly true. Beneath the roiling skies of ash and storms, Beyond the forests of death and decay, Beneath the mountains of twisted ice and grey rubble, A single sound reverberates from deep within. The heart beats behind glass walls. It calls slowly, pounding out its measured rhythm From behind its see-through priso

He looks at you, with sadness in his eyes, And mutters the word “sorry”. As if that changes a thing. As if that knits your heart back together, And dries the tears, and stops the pain In your wrists where the razor kissed Open the skin, and red flowers blossomed In a spring lake in which you lay. He says that single word, and in an instant A hundred thousand images flash Across your mind. An infinite amount Of possibilities snuffed out as the fallout From that word turns them to ashes And burns away the dream of togetherness That filled your head with light as bright as An atomic bomb. Sorry. A word, wrought with meaning