Five A.M.

my own deathvineyards of moons,a shallow depthof the sea, Venus sinks,I drowned and criedin my sleep, died like the ocean,born in splitminds,like the magentaof mother’s womb; a vortex of nothingfair and bonyfor the ghostof mine does not grieve these amputations of mind;absence of the moon’s bare-bones, I see the lizard limbsof the moonrise as I… Read More Five A.M.

Ocean to Ocean.

Ophelia flowers leaving  to the excessive  blindness by the fingernails of psithurism, and trees that inherit the blood red; ankles sink into the ocean stars come to the end of light—the angry light that feasts  beyond the last bone from the tree, and dark waves beyond the terminus of the skies familiar in graveyard shifts… Read More Ocean to Ocean.

during winters.

the unseen darkness and ghosts of madmen pluck the death in me with lady’s slipper petals; craters of blackberry oyster shells lay at night during winters; the red fingernails of grief, the oceania flowers drowned and in our minds we dissolve like white tombs of the moon. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. First appeared… Read More during winters.