Excuse me, Operator

Malicia's Malebolge

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Excuse me, Operator,
what time is it again?
The mechanic response echoes
on an empty line
Sorry to bother you like this,
I just called to find out
if you still think I’m worthy

and did you know?
some people would hurt you if they could get away with it
I scream into the handset after the signal’s been cut off
It’s easier to talk to the ghost of you
’cause you were never a great listener

I cannot tell mind and matter apart,
I draw an image of a razor-blade and let it cut my skin
I used to think artists were crazy
while I opened my mouth like a heathen
and fed of the marrow of your words
had sex with the concept until my patience ran dry
endless nights of never-sated cravings
the daydream that turned into a nightmare, and then into you
Now I’m chasing…

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Requiem, At Dawn

Insights from "Inside"

Inspired by the introductory post by A, G Diedericks on Sudden Denouement. Please be sure to read his brilliant writing.

you drowned in the well

incognizant, I dug

I was tunneling

to the dawn of us

through the purgatory

of your distance

my shovel struck bedrock

immutable, unyielding

flinty faux foundation

fossilized connection

deflected, I excavated

askew

tapped a hole

in the banks of Styx

inundated our

sacred rooms

I drowned in the well

unwitting, you unearthed

you were scrambling

for safety

craving concealment

hunted wolf cub

covering its scat

you sought burrowed refuge

tang of your fear

hung heavy on my tongue

frantic scrabbling

furrowed a pit

your sorrows swelled

rivulets to raging

unheeding I fell

over the brink

our dawn

was a golden reveille

an estival serenade

summons to rapturous

dispelling of vernal chill

from glittering gems of dew

our dusk plummeted precipitously

arctic dirge

to autumnal…

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More!

S. K. Nicholas

cows

That place down by the river. Or the river itself. I’m not quite sure. When she slides her fingers in and hums, I lose track of where I am and fumble around like a drunk. When the sound of running water quickens and I’m driven to a frenzy, my hands wrap themselves around her throat, but she never says no, only more, more, more!But I’ve got this splitting headache, and the guilt I feel of being in this skin makes me withdraw and turn inwards until no amount of apologising can excuse my misanthropic ways. Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my mind, but I think such a worry is a good reminder that I’ve still got a mind to lose because everywhere you look, everyone acts the same. It’s the hive mind syndrome. People claim to be unique, and yet there’s nothing to distinguish them from one…

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I Die in the Water – Jasper Kerkau

The Writings of Jasper Kerkau

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I died again. In the waters as usual. It is always the water. Somehow it all makes sense. It is always the minor things. The minutia that pulls me under. The little, wet idiosyncrasies, stuffed words, distant miscommunication. I die over and over again. Each time, I emerge from the waters, gasping for air. Shedding my wet skin, warming myself by imaginary fires. There is always a new life, new thoughts springing forth from moist soil. But, the disappointment is daunting. The little, sad failures leave me paralyzed in bed, stomaching churning, limbs seized. I stand in the grocery store, gazing at nothing, avoiding mediocre conversations with a neighbor about apple trees. There is a scream boiling up inside me. A smile creeps across my face and I nod, backing away slowly. There is nothing I understand about their world. My days are secret disasters giving birth to revelations, new…

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Introducing A.G. Diedericks – There’s No Dawn Where We Live

There’s no dawn where we live.

I watch as you step inside my soul,  scavenging for a candle holder,

accompanied by an indefatigable passion to touch this purely

decorative heart.

In my hands I caress your ethereal skin, freckled with my scars. On

your lips, I turn your truths into lies

I’m all that you should despise

Oh, my beautiful marionette

When will you realize?

Tell me when it gets cold, and I’ll lend you my straight-jacket,

whilst I put on another disguise.

 

There’s an equilibrium in madness.

In our tunnel; you had the vision

to descry the years of loyalty beyond the brutality. And time has

stolen everything except our problems.

 

You see, I have always been the architect of my own abyss.

Until you came along and furnished it into your own wishing well,

leaving me to rest & dwell, in this never-ending boundary spell.

Where my subconscious manifest monstrosities,

whispered

beneath a church bell.

 

I remember when we met, you told me that you’re just a figment of my

imagination. I didn’t know it at the time, that we had seen each other

before, somewhere in the trenches of an ominous metaphor.

 

The truth is I am a custodian of doubt, anchored by a lofty disregard

for change.

I don’t remember the walls being this shade of black. I don’t remember

why our ghost writer left and booked himself in for an exorcism.

 

There’s no dawn where we live

I watch as you self-flagellate, injecting yourself with Stockholm Syndrome

I watch your ambivalent tears burn with the aesthetic light of your

smile destitute of truth

And you know that i would let you go, if you would let me..

but you’ve always been more stubborn than me

even now, as you stand there..

laying your incorrigible flowers

on this free-fall bed.


[ A.G. Diedericks is a cinephile in the midst of being gentrified into a bibliophile.. Colonized by mediocrity; He moonlights as a clandestine writer. You’ll find him in a dark alley over at the cuckoo’s nest; where he often lays to rest in Cape Town, SA. ]

Sentence of Sentience – Max Meunier

max

 

Sentence of Sentience – Max Meunier

what have i
but quieted inquiries

hollowed
and echoed
through vales
of a sub-violet druse
of aversion

no tangible touch
to form valid expression

intentions adrift
amid merciless
miles of mutable morass

from which somnolous streams
softly spill
forth eclipses

in lapses
bereft of availing account

where whims slowly waft
beyond walled apparitions

fled from partition
to form in summation
a dormant despair
born of quiet desperation

awaiting conclusion
in sediments muring

a freedom reprieved
of sententious ideal

for what purpose plausible
peers within prisms

but spectacle
cradling consciences captious

enraptured in casting incessant goodbyes

alas
i digress
lest my thoughts
become i

[image credit: Wilhelm Kotarbinski]

Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I am a feminist, humanist, cat loving musician bound by whimsy and the incessant analysis of hyper-vigilant observations.  I am obsessed with words and rhythmically woven wordplay.” We are honored to have him as a member of our tribe.  He writes at Max Meunier Dissocative Void.