perfume.

First Draft. Paris, lady’s lipsdeath with us, the perfumeplumbs the sun tothe tulle limbs of flowers, outstretchedbeneath the bloated darkthat bleeds. Recall the icein black roses, the sweetnessof your lipsto fallen last breaths. Final Draft.  Perfume from the bloodlustand silent tributary of fallen tears—oscillation; amputationfrom the wombintrudes to the shorea coquette,my petal of death.Winter alone, I… Read More perfume.

Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter 6 Part II.

She grappled his face. “You don’t get to say shit like that. Not after this fucked off day. You can go fuck off too if you keep saying that.”

“I’ve never seen you so sentimental.”

“It’s not like you’d remember,” Lauren sighed, only now feeling how sweated up her tank-top had become.

“Ouch. Low blow.”… Read More Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter 6 Part II.

“Sex, Alcohol and Sugar” by Don Matthews.

I seem to spend my lifeIn giving up on thingsThings I like, look forward toRing-a-ding-a-ding I’m told such things are bad for meThat I should wave goodbyeTo smoking, sugar, alcoholGive up, lie back, and sigh Funny? But there’s just one thingI don’t give up (one thing)That’s sex, it just gives up on meRing-a-ding-a-ding Visit ‘Flippant,… Read More “Sex, Alcohol and Sugar” by Don Matthews.

I leave in a deeper silence.

Death among a void,             existence into the throatof the flowers; but what is it aboutthe death of verse and proseinto the saurian rocks             and night of memorynot myself? Quiet as baby’s breath.             The fall of manis a rarity from fear and falsity             but as poetically a delusionto capture in the snow like a child;I reach to open my eyes             to… Read More I leave in a deeper silence.

“Echo” by Jo Kolar.

Potential trigger warning: This poem may have references to acts of self-harm. An echo.That vibrates in a soundless roomThat nicks the wallsThat stains the tubThat crumples the sheetsBut leaves me aloneExcept for the scar on my cheekThe things I do to myselfI don’t know why. To check out more of Jo Kolar’s work, go here.

autumn.

squander red rockalone the ladyand darknessto the tidesdislocate Apollo,to pares of boneswed to grief;I shatter likethe blue mooninto fall’s handsin the fingertipsof flowers that were not mine& ghost planetsand shiversreserved to thedeath of the apple,and baby’s dream. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for this week’s Go Dog Go Prompt: into fall’s hands.

to grief.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-uterofingers; the apple burstslike an appendix / and the seabreast to breast / is a mistressto the Kalahari sun/ mouthing /to my moon“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /threnody and dream, as if the Earth is glass /stranded / to the ghosts /of… Read More to grief.

“Humour Don’t Sell Papers” by Don Matthews.

I’ve just read today’s paper It’s full of doom and gloom Murders, killing, destruction, death Children being groomed Headlines blare out constantly SEX FIEND IS EXPOSED There’s so much negativity (The paper I have closed) Why can’t I read, enjoy myself With lots of humour, rife? Instead of being subjected to This gutter side of… Read More “Humour Don’t Sell Papers” by Don Matthews.

last flower.

with the last flower, traveled and scrawled from our mind—across the sun. the moon cracks and reddens as death comes to stardust. ebony époque hikes to the yellow tourniquets; and in-utero shells, plasma glass, her eyes are mine; maniac moon devours the limb to the stars clotted in bones/rocks. I dream between the blood from… Read More last flower.