Peel yourself off the wall your spider eyes can catch me up when I arrive, you can devour me Your garden is empty, deflowered by the storm you guide directly into place
I’ve seen your face before, I know the prints you leave behind
Clouded judges in the box Crowded criminals inside your prisons Will the riots start now that I’ve changed lanes? I’ve lost my legs, a trail of dust leading back to the fall Call me till you get sick of the busy tone The insides of bones atop my neck is Hawaii I’m getting eroded by your voice Slip on the slick and trip into the undertow It’s understood, you’re seven years of bad luck
Lock up yourself Feast on the key Let it cut you up like axes to Amazon Your heavy metal brash is no longer glorious Your inattentive eyes stumble onto any other fly
leaving a web littered with bulging takeaway boxes
Jon is an author and poet in Ottawa, Canada. By day he designs aircrafts, plays music, and drinks coffee. His poetry has been published by ByWords and his novel, A Man Named Eustace, was published in February 2018 by Outlaws Publishing. While Jon spends much of his time writing prose, he tends to dabble in poetry on his days off.