Crumpled carburettor caresses the curves
Horn rings out a slow tuneless death knell.
Door cuts into thigh
Blood coats metal.
A leg stretches backwards
Covered in purple and crimson remembrance.
Head lolls like a twisted Newton’s Cradle
Drowned in the ocean of a comatose curse.
Body through the windshield
Sliced like so much cheap ham
Bizarre meat sculpture
Glass reflects in eyes, blind, gone.
Protecting the memory
As one might protect an injury
Turning to the darkness away from the harm.
Those black nights filled with coughs and sighs
Silence only coming when bodies gave up.
Soon replaced by brief sobs
As the corpse’s bed was searched for hidden crumbs.
This was no time for ceremony.
Survival was a grey routine
The ashes of comrades falling through the air like demonic snow.
Loved ones already crossed off the list
And sent to the gas
No water from the showers
No way out
I’m trying to rescue me from myself
But I have no strategy.
I have incentive to paint
But with words not pictures.
Masterpiece gift tied in a bow
A present, not a restraint.
Holding ‘The Morbids’ at bay today
Though they captivate me so.
Trapping me in their vampiric gaze
And rarely letting go.
I’m beginning to think less now,
It’s getting better.
The feet on the floor, arise,
The victory of leaving the pillow.
Yet I’ve had enough of adventures
Intelligence destroys my brain
And opens my heart to the point of breaking
A shell of emotion unprotected.
Creating, photographing, destroying,
Life’s a collage of bloody remembrance.
Curled into a cellar of self reflection
Pushing the locked door, silently.
History has boiled the egg faster
Sucking joy into a vacuum
And positivity is only reflected in the broken mirror of one’s past endeavours.
More than seven years bad luck for sure
How many more before the shards begin to cut
And the image is forever mutilated?