Bad air hangs over Olympia. Be it from the lake, the waterfront, the alleys, uptown, or on the hill where law claims capitol. There lives a wraith somewhere. It manifests to infect newbloods with its promise of risk, how it renders silent the cacophonous mist that is each participant in the mysticism and illusion ofContinue reading “Miasma”
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You’re a spearfishing surgeon Looking for that sturgeon Hiding in me Behind a lobotomy
Doc
Doc Gleam of the instruments On the silver platter Reflect fluorescent photons And x-ray waves While the blood on the table Acts as ink blotters Whiting out stains of pink Tearing into the wounds to help Stitch the pain back together Weaving skin as a basket Patching where it can Pulling where it can’t ButterflyContinue reading “Doc”
Consume Reality! 