One More Time-SRP

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

My heart is torn in two

it’ll eat you alive if you let it

let it take you

let it take you away

Within my dreams

it can drag you down if you let it

let it take you

let it take you away

All the lights have gone out

and a new day fades don’t forget it

it will take you

let it take you away

I had this dream where I fall

and I can’t get back up again

just acquaintances there

and nobody knows who you are

The dust on the floors have settled

to soot

it’ll swallow you whole and

you’ll never come back

you let it take you

take you away

you let it

don’t you

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Mechanized Paranoia

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Digital positive from celluloid negative.

by pbbr

Everyone who passes me holds my life in their hands. I can’t stand to look at them but I do. Faces behind dirty windshields, eighteen wheelers and Volkswagens, minivans. They carry the lottery card that wins my violent death, each and every one of them. In their wallets, their purses, their consoles. Only one will be lucky enough to punch it. But which one? Was it him? Her?

Wrinkled faces, hackneyed brows and unshaven jowls, they mock me with moonslatted eyes. Drivers rocketing by in a blur. I only catch glimpses of them but they seem to know everything about me. They can smell my watery fear. I can tell by the way they catch my gaze, some lightly grinning, others drooling with murderlust. Stay in your lane. Please.

A twolane highway, a nighttime deathrow chamber, paved just for me. Guttural machines roaring. Mountain roads and overpasses, headlights…

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MISSING – David Lohrey

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

ameabusch

MISSING – David Lohrey

What’s missing?
Absolutely everything, dad, absolutely everything,
including you.

Who’s missing?

I have friends who don’t sleep at night.
Are they thinking of what’s happened or worried about tomorrow?

The ball came this close but missed my head.
It’s called a close call.
All of life is a close call, mother said.

Who, what, where, when, why, how?

Mother’s left breast is missing.
Does she miss it? Did he?

Humes. Clover. Des Moines, Iowa. Coldspring.
There’s no tomorrow and yesterday’s forgotten.

You will be missed means you’re still alive.
You’re not dead yet but you will be.
Welcome to your funeral.

Is anything missing?
There is something missing but I can’t put my finger on it.

My front tooth is missing.
I missed the bus.
Mom’s purse.
Where’s my sock?

No, I don’t miss the bus.
I missed the boat.

“I’ll teach you to talk that…

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Chamomile – Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

mae-murray

Chamomile – Rana Kelly

It’s just one slip of leather

To uncollar one of my demons

And lash out at you

Until your guts are ribbons

And your heart is gore.

But you’ve met me on a good day.

Would you like some tea?

 

[Rana Kelly was born and raised in the Deep South, and now resides in the Southwest.  Her poetry, personal essays, short fiction, and photography has been published in anthologies and literary magazines far and wide over the years, from Caesura to featherproof press, FM to Ceremony Collected. Her first novel, Until Her Darkness Goes, was published in 2015.She’s currently writing her second novel under a pseudonym.]

I Have to Turn My Head

https://www.facebook.com/bookeofkells

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The next addiction – Bishop Hermes

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

aleistercrowley

The next addiction – Bishop Hermes

Oh that we create addictions
for ourselves and for others
blissful euthanasias we so leisurely strive for
oh create another so that i may
add yet one more habit to my repertoire
we deform to preserve life
as it lackadaisically slips through our hands
and we endeavor not to become statistics
yet most die to be another one
the impatience is killing me
how long shall i wait for my next addiction
[Bishop Hermes is an exceptional poet/musician who came to Sudden Denouement with strong recommendation from Sperantia Zavala. We are excited to have him contributing and feel strongly about his poetic vision and look forward to a fruitful collaboration.]

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I Want to go to Vegas – Jasper Kerkau

The Writings of Jasper Kerkau

The Writings of Jasper Kerkau

539w

I’m not depressed, just bored. I really want to go to Vegas. Maybe I can get one of those packages, airfare and three nights with free buffets and a complimentary show. I will eat steak and lobster and get followed around high-end shops by menacing looking security guards with thin mustaches.  Sit on the blackjack table hitting seventeen every time, much to the chagrin of everyone at the table, which leads to me getting into an argument with the pit boss over my table etiquette and the nature of reality. Eventually, hiding in restroom from undercover satanists masquerading as cocktail waitresses. I will try to sneak to my room and somebody will slip microfilm with classified information in my pocket leaving me to be pursued by Russian spies with thick necks. I will have to hot-wire a car and drive to Los Angeles and deliver the sensitive document to a…

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