Another Scrapped Suicide Note/Nathan McCool

So much expressed here.

Blood Into Ink


Jesus isn’t waiting for me anywhere. I nailed him

to a tree. A long time ago. And hell fires are extinct to me now. I can no more believe 

in them than I can the idea that mercy was

coming for me and just lost its way. 

I write this in a field – Gaia’s emerald hair is

what leaves this paper water damaged.

I am not crying now or even fighting tears,

for once.

If you could see me now you’d know 

that I’m smiling. Like I never have before.

I do not know if we really take anything with us 

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Degrees of home

Have you ever felt That you can never go home again Or that you have never ever really been home In all your life? Perhaps some other world , Some other life, Is missing you. I stood alone, still a boy Enthralled by a Master's painting A scene at once unfamiliar and beckoning It was... Continue Reading →

Yet more cat trouble

the one that has me treat-trained sits in its worn out spot on the floor every day, same time it has now developed a professional smirk a badge of accomplishment shall I acquiesce yet again? am I but a human yo-yo spun into the Sleeper then drawn back for endless repeats? meanwhile, back at the... Continue Reading →

Marking time

when we are in joy when it's as if we purr with a good book and hot coffee when our longed for break comes the time subjectively speeds in moments of displeasure or pain we watch the second hand tick tick tick us off the time subjectively slows me, I have a conundrum it is... Continue Reading →

Little Green Wings. (Second reprise)

It's two in the morning as I write this. Wide awake. After five years of progressive addiction to sleeping drugs, I've "completed " a 60 day withdrawal program, taking the last of it two days ago. At age 67, other than insomnia, I have tremors, elevated heart rate, severe abdominal cramping, brain zaps, coordination problems,... Continue Reading →

Four armed is four warned

In this opium dream, Fraser and his three friends, in a drunken ramble on Delhi streets, had a curious card passed to them.  It bore only an address, and the anonymous youth who stopped them had a strange aspect.  With a look at once timorous and knowing, he had seemed to offer the card, then... Continue Reading →

Cigarette Kisses

What a great piece!

Inside Minds

Your cigarette kisses,

They linger on my lips

Intense as colours wrapped in smoke,

It tastes like my memory of you.

Your tongue speaks for itself.

A fresh carton,

And anticipation for your touch.

You light one as it hangs from your lips,

Care free for all we exhibit.

Inhale. Exhale.

You paint a picture with tendrils.

Your breath is art

As it touches winter air.

You look at me as you extinguish the last spark,

And you smile so easily

And you lean in

And i sigh

I love you and your cigarette kisses.

Kayla Jeannine

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A rumination on pain

The stitched-in torture of nightmare The rented Witches' Familiar Whose beady eyes make sure Their Lord's work be done To us, the chosen ones The sweat of our spirits Runs from our eyes and our noses Our pleas are lost Like screaming into the wind What have we done? Oh God, what have we done?

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