“the fawn” – “the slip” – “was” – “oh dear!”

The Fawn

Would you approve, if I drilled

into your spine?

Nestling ruptures.

Fizzing, white structures.

You glance, black eyed, divine.

Rigid, on icy chrome.

Shrivelled cornea, alluding

to the past, present

and fading future

In your mirror

I find a fawn

in the jaws of something

you cannot contemplate

Drenched in rusty sweat

Your sobs are mute

Paralysis. Both real and imaginary.

No vocal chords.

No tongue.

No hope.

The Slip

They march through the archway

Following a scent of

cold stone, old books

and closed windows.

He misses her outstretched hand

as they enter

She stares at the floor

and awaits the uncovering.


In taller fields, in pitched down days

Egg yolk sins and whip marked legs

We run for no reason, to hide and to seek

And one day, no more

Oh Dear!

Oh dear!

I’m going down here.

Down to the cellar.

To the, well

I might be a while.

Don’t particularly

wish to return.

Not to that control.

That grey void.

Let the wine.

The synapses.

The words flow.

Trickle, bombard and flood.

The secret, dark fruit.

The electric, tender flesh.

Replenishes a soul.

and nourishes the right.

A ferocious anger

lies beneath in hell.

And hell is where I appear

to want to visit.

but that ferocity brings spirit

in life as well as cruelty

paranoia and despair

On this timeline we all carry it.

exorcise your shame, guilt

anger and regret

Shed your past and be free!

— The Yellow King. You can follow him on Twitter, if he lets you.

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