cruel & unusual punishment

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             Loading….    a front desk agent
     the Hatter’s white hare, unpaid vacation |
       sleeves fastened around back

             the only one who showed for tea

            repositioning my skeleton
                ready to spring @
                  the phone

          but it rings
              it rings
                  leave a message

    just waiting for your check in
        to the Heartbreak Hotel

        knowing you’ll not walk out
          the same / if you walk out at all

–LM

AUTHORS NOTE: Inspired by Besomorph

wanted: paint respirator

When I stand in front of you know I stand behind glass & walls of invisible barricades always & if I had it my way this looming battle turret would never run out
       of ammunition

Codeswitching determinant on the crowd I’m surfing, sniffing mellifluous lines hellbent on feeling the high of measuring up. I am an enemy of my own bust for its age and its cracking
         A seething perfectionist lacking the art of perfection. A demolition I’m too lazy & overwhelmed to repair. Guilty of the easy double standard, livid I am completely unnecessary. God forbid I ever own my own power. It’s a silent overtaking.
       I am catastrophic; the last role model you ever need. Apt to pondering if an applauding audience is faking it. Opening doors with rapt knuckles & laying out red carpets for misfits. I react violently with my own vulnerability, I may react the same with you, too. That’s no fault of ours. Abuse is …
        the fine line between playing the role and saying the title. Don’t get excited over something so satirical.
                Honesty like blood splatter and I’m wearing white.

–LM

the body bag on route 27

Sleep alone: you require the comfort of dreams, not me, in fact I think you’ll be just fine without/

      What good is lost
             without a map to civilization
      what is human but pavement
          where a brain can scatter like
              open jars of silky marbles all across
                the barely lit highway

         organs dry-abandoned alongside the carcass
               & in the milky eyes of the corpse
      Death reflects
                        its presence

                 for some, not soon enough

–LM

a girl teaches a foreign language to a prince

‘each glitch stranger than the last,’ she said, scrolling through pages & pages of thoughts fired off like geometric pyrotechnics. highbrow on the off chance.

encroaching on restless perusing these rituals embedded in text messages and proclamations of love shy of fifty seconds because less than a minute is all you really need to get your point straight across. thirty gigabytes in a month guaranteed.

vaudeville is gone but its villians remain | are you urged to forfeit everything for aweworthy amenities knowing the responsibility falls on fickle destiny in invisible spaces?

–LM

moonburn

I own many earthtone shades
    emulating Mother Teresa with a whip
         & therefore hesitate to regale
           anyone with my opinion

      you’ll freeze because I have the expectation
                           you’ll listen
           & I know the right path
                to take, even if the way
                       is overgrown

                 immobile I refuse to move
          under scrutiny/ under surveillance
         because when analyzed you may find
         my mystical assistance was taxed after all

                         you may pay in blood
            but the accepted amount
                    is in love

                              amounts of which seem
                   far-fetched                     but/
                  none I’d not gladly trade myself
                                        

          I’m your genie; what is your wish?

–LM

         Authors Note: Belief in jinn was common in pre-Islamic Arabia, where they were thought to inspire poets and soothsayers..
               beings of smokeless flame

the cruel diagnosis

there’s so much I want to say
  given things have changed
    & I feel I’m on this island alone

                                 with a fucking telescope

   I admit I swerved the eclipse
                because I wanted to sleep
                    & it was blood red rare, too,
                                      thirsting for lunar ooze

                 I don’t need your word
         because actions s pi ll the same
                                   [  definite  ]

              & I’m not impressed anymore
           with                                             infinite

                             I am only fascinated
                                 with abrupt
                                       ends/

because they’re repetitive

–LM

bouncing back

I love a silver echo, you’re
    usurping a melody I can’t contain
         revising the time
     between Templars’ Gregorian chant

and the lull of Spring rain

      I feel it,
          like God/ & continuously seek it
                                              always find it
                             hidden between stones
                                           and violence
                                    however polished

         I think you’re already beside me
                  maybe I’m simply hallucinating

–LM

Lilith in Sagittarius

I never had syrupy words
      for you to discover
              buried in the dark on crepe paper
       when I am hardly alive/

  Ignore the butchered woman
         outside. Black Dahlia was a
                  ritual sacrifice____

Do me proper,
     tease me in public. What is your
  concept of ownership?

         Drink a little more poison.
                  We’ll high-rise together.
   You hate to love me
                as hard as you do when
      I’m toxic.
           

      Even Nostradamus never
       saw me coming.

–LM

atlas.

pain has a desperate chime
   like sordid breathless rhyme
      or tedious monotonous time
     sucking breath like
           a forested Chinese sinkhole

      Is it because I’m sedentary
       barely anybody respects me
         who says they’re worthy, loose leaf?
           burying a sure – fire cancer

          & maybe being flattered is
         a relief on the pressure
             in my mental crumbling temple
       gold and jewels there wrought
                        aplenty

                 know, if I was you in your place
          right now, I’d fucking crumple, too

–LM