I Am

I am the color suicide
Riding red upon this man
Primed with glass, draping knuckles brass
May only spare one laugh
For the boy with the slit throat
With my face for a mask
Choking on molasses
Fucking hos up the arse.

I am the cyclone of animals
That my carcass distils
Meditations that pace my poetry with pills
Drowned my grandmother
My conscience on stilts
I am an unending, unwavering cascade of guilt

Mutilate my mannequin
Impotent rage
In panicked skin

If you see me
Then don’t
I am the end of days
I am the end of space
I am the end of grace
Hanging from your ceiling fan
With a string of silky lace.

  • Monty Apocalypsewallah
    Monty daylights as Ishaan. He writes and gets in people’s faces.

    Submit your expression to us at mirrorworkss@gmail.com with a short bio + portrait + relevant contact information to have it featured on this site. Namaskara!

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