Split Poetry

Finding That Needle

I felt alive, I felt vivid.
I lay my head to rest in the backseat of a Chrysler.
I awoke to the feeling of stones passing, hearts
breaking, my urine covered soul.
Streetlights add depth perception through a palpitated
era of emptiness.
The south winds carry me kicking and screaming, fully healed.
the devil won't take me.
History’s makings, and past fornications leave lay
to the campfire.
As two a.m. becomes four, and a few drinks become many more,
my eyes become a blur... my last selfless thought was of her.
The sulphuric admonishments brought on by the changing of tides,
our state of being was lost to the absence of angels singing.

Chris S./Patrick M.

Parasitic Hearts

Have you ever been sloppy ass drunk?
Wishing to tear out your heart, assassinate
your soul and smear yourself across paper.
Lay convalescing in your bed wishing for
something else?
Calendar years cannot lay waste to what
I've known my entire life. Read between the lines.
Wounds seeping betwixt stitches, infecting the whole.
Bandages rubbing off like the newest trend.
I don't believe in paradox, I can't, I haven't one
ship to harbor. Burning dreams to the earth, and I
too shall fall.
Hidden between my knees, I recognize this slave trade.
You’ve shattered one bottle and I'll devour the other.
Ideas born from the need to belong, the sickest of human
conditioning, I'll eat this existence and everything with it.
Stripped and cut short, being brought to the edge of orgasm
and then castrated on sight.
 

Chris S./Patrick M