Love, a spellbinding; when then
the incantations abruptly end;
what remains is the shockwave

of a mystical ensorcellment
nettling an atavistic hunger to
consume that which is beyond

the comprehension of the charmed;
an addiction to the enchantment
who answers no worship, obeys

no ritual, and rewards no sacrifice;
it grants only the illusion that
those engagements may unleash

the bewitching magic once again

art: Deliberation by Mario Sanchez Nevado


The ghosts insist, in the vilest
vehemence, that he lay down
his arms in obeisant fealty;

the spirits spin the marionette,
until he’s bound by his own sinew,
in the edge of their favorite room;

the spectres spread the pall
in a sinister flourish, over the
tremor in his deadened eyes;

the past whispers heart-halting
fairy tales of twisted truths
and manic manipulations;

the phantom pains remind him,
with a tick upon his psyche, that
he yet lives in this nightmare;

pandemonium unbeknownst, mutes
his tongue, lest others discover it
hiding in a corner within his head

art: serenity by pekthong


An ineluctable epiphany taints the morning
air breathability, a noxious duality bearing
curiosity and causality; too inquisitive to mould
his nascent suitability, too unmoulded to warrant

the necessity of equanimity; a purgatory of
instability, his isolation and its unsustainability,
embrace taciturnity or be silenced for all eternity;
a boiling proclivity perturbs the surface of

morality -if there exists such a commodity- when
alternatively an eventuality unfolds… unbridled
machinations smear his sanity with self-directed
profanity of an apparent lack of humanity; one

plumbum at high velocity could cure the
abnormality, or candy red fountains of sanguinity
might disenthrall the infirmity, or would liberating
his sole suspendedly alleviate his mental disability;

perhaps a contraption of ingenuity to net all three,
in a long-coming cacophony of certainty & finality;
engenderment of vacuity, tranquility in the writhe-
free, wight-free, write-free intractability of reality

art: by Zdzisław Beksiński


Turbid sludge coerced through ever
constricting jugulars, thickening
with peculiar particulates; a
dreamcatcher gallows whereby

esperance was strung until still,
whose relics there yet hang in
derision of their host; spectres of
malcontent haunting in compunctious

preoccupation, an arterial ossuary
of sacramental wolfsbane coagulated
in bloodwine; a straitjacket of
skin taut to tearing, confining the

restless bedlam of torpor through
indecision; the hurled rubble and
obfusation of unfurled divergent
journeys, zugzwang in disasterous

perpetuity; whyfor a heart circulate
such malicious discontent; what then
betides a soul upon releasing the
consanguineous slithering serpents

art: Burned III by carlosgarijo


It’s thin. The paper lying before
him, and the paperweight’s skin
resting upon it; the depth of the
graphite pressed into the albus

page with the apathetic exigency
of have-tos and owe-it-to-thems;
the kerning and strokes of the
languid letters barely scoring its

surface; the flimsy wording and
porous reasoning behind a veil
of half-hearted half-truths; the
syncopated lips in imperceptible

recitation to the mindless thrall;
the slits wherefrom lacteolus orbs
peer thru the erubescent scarring
of fatigue; the breathing of shallow

waves slowly floating to the shores
of expiry, and receding weaker on
return; the connections tethering
him to consciousness and binding

him to corporeality; the pavlovial
response to a delicate tap on the
door by a deserves-better; the guilt
deliquescing in the darkness, and

evanesce of light into absolution

art: by Christophe Hohler