The noise of this brain

By Devika Mathur

And so I crumble in my own jaw line

Leaking from the iris,

A stoned mahogany stuck

Beneath the frivolous sky,

I lie like a pond, open and scarred,

Rummaging through your eyes,

To seek something that belongs to my lip.

I fail.

I fail the second day as well.

My mind talks pills and potions

A volatile adamant touch of burps.

A ripple lost and secured.

My mind is insane, forever.



Devika Mathur, a poetess from India is a published poetess and is a lover of everything dark and surreal. Her work has been previously published in Sudden Denouement, Visual Verse, Dying dahlia review, two drops of ink, Madswirl, The rye whiskey review among various others. Find more of her musings at https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com

Sinking-Sarah Doughty/Heartstring Eulogies

I’m drowning in an infinite ocean, salted by my tears. Trapped in this dark world, illuminated only by the moon’s soft glow, I cry, and I beg for an end to my suffering. For salvation. A reprieve. But the tide keeps pulling me away. No matter how hard I kick, or thrash in those crashing waters, I gain no purchase. With the last of my strength, I pull my head above the surface and gulp a desperate breath into my burning lungs, breathing out words in a whisper even I can’t hear, “Save me.” And then those darkened waters pull me under for the last time.


Sarah Doughty is the wordsmith behind her website, Heartstring Eulogies, author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry chapbook, and the acclaimed Earthen Witch universe, a collection of novels and novellas, all offered for free (https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/useful-links/). To learn more about Sarah and her books, check out her website (http://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/about) and Goodreads (https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13753138.Sarah_Doughty).

Writing on the Wall-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

I read the

Writing on the wall

Neon graffiti

Composed of

Cryptic symbols

Stunning words

Of power

Of rage

Of grief

That sting

Like sleet on my bare skin

Ice crystals that burn

And freeze on contact

I recognize your

Artist’s tag

 

I long to

Pull out

Cans of spray paint

From my battered

Backpack

Connect the dots

With hunter green

Soften the edges

Silver and mauve

Rewrite the narrative

Midnight blue

But this is not

My territory

I am unsure of

My welcome

On your turf

These days

 

I reluctantly

Turn away

And walk

City streets

Concrete and steel

Broken glass

Strewn sidewalks

To my 3rd floor

Walk-up

Rows of deadlocks

And chains

On the door

Never sure if

Their purpose is to

Keep others out

Or keep my creative

Madness contained

 

In this room

Of my own

Blank canvases

Await

I pause

Briefly

Consider

What I want

What I need

To express

 

And lose myself

To the process

Weaving words

Of love

Of healing

Spinning dreams

Painting longing

Etched with light

A thing of

Beauty

That you may

Never see


 

Christine Ray writes for Brave and Reckless and The Whisper and The Roar and is a managing editor at Sudden Denouement.

She is an aspiring badass

Elixir – Jasper Kerkau

My tooth became abscessed. I awoke to find my jaw swollen, infection having taken a deep hold on my life. It seems paralyzing at times, the pain leaves me gasping for air, waiting on antibiotics to work some kind of supernatural magic, to beat back the horror and restore order to my life. It comes in waves of overwhelming pain, stinging, agonizing moments when I lose context of everything else around me. This too shall pass, I tell myself over and over again. I realize that I have been doing this all year, just taking the horror on in one wave after another, waiting for a fix, waiting for something to make things better, and, alas, it is all so fleeting.

There is an infection in my body that is eating away at my soul, it burns, and I toil, waiting for a respite, waiting for a chemical to produce a reaction inside me that will make everything more palatable. They say two or three days for my teeth; it is four to six weeks for the other. The other is what I am waiting on. Having suspended my disbelief I have prostrated myself to their concoctions to clear my mind, to draw out the infection in my thinking, to purge the pus that is sitting in my skull, deterring rational thought. I want to be like one of the happy people. Soon, I will have a life of leisure, jokes and backslapping, fun at the beach and balloons for the kids. Everything will be okay. I know they can make it better. I know this throbbing will stop, the ache will be destroyed by their elixir’s. I have faith in the mortal and the pestle. Tomorrow night I will sleep without the pain in my tooth, next week I will dream without the pain in my heart. They will fix me. Surely, they will fix me.


[Jasper Kerkau is a managing editor and writer for Sudden Denouement and editor and writer for The Writings of Jasper Kerkau.]