Doll

Layered psychoses
swelter her brow,
helter-skelter sans
clemency of a breath;

nested neuroses
bombastically loud,
she’s a madness of
matryoshka dolls;

infinity mirrors of
dwindling sanity,
bearing distant truths
of her diminishing self;

the taunting homunculi
with unreal expectations,
synchronize chides for
Platonic perfection;

this ephemeral Form
of unattainable need,
is found unapologetic in
the auspicious greed of

the commercial zeitgeist

art: The Cloud Seed by Margarita Georgiadis

Whittle

Lip chewing

Making waves

Beneath heavy lids

Going down stares

Led by come hither fingers

Dripping darkness dares

To steel my clenched fist

Whittle flesh, make a man

Bereft of bone and sinew

Pedal and brimstone

Whet with gore and malice

Grinding shrapnel for dessert

Soaked in lies and afterthought

Napalm charring the bowel

Of a soul encrusted chalice

art: too late.. by Peterio