Written by: Paul Sylvester

losing blood like a hemorrhage. 
it’s your hands that will bleed this time. 
stale, Dauphin eyes break and feed 
tragic Calamity, when the wisping clouds 
,with their wisping mouths, wisp no more. 
biting at the king’s ears; hearing what I hear 
placing yourself at a foreign view. . .a retarding world of laugh-
cotton candy swirled like frothy mocha lattes...
nasty little people - little children, running into countertops. 
vita brevis, so they say
yes! this is just like you thought it would be. 
You scrape me with your branches; I drive this axe across your back.