Monday, May 30, 2016

The Pariah In Exile, By John T.

The sensation, familiar and tingling,
Comes from that ancient cold chains.
As he stumbles through the vast and foggy landscape,
Crystals streaking down from the moons of his.

The pariah is now who he is,
At least to that community:
Where he was born and bred,
a place once full of promises, now of uncertainty.

The Poison Heart, by John T.


I’m not going back in there,
For there’s no space for me there.
She waved me goodbye back then,
And I leave there for nothing then.


Girl, your heart is a poison to me,
And I can’t afford for another sweet hideous taste from it.
I’m not going back in there,
For I know it’s not safe for me to be there.