Author Archives: Catastrophe Jones
Flesh and Blood
She peels it back, inch by inch, careful to remove just it, and not the viscera beneath. Concentrating hard on the sound of heartbeats, she doesn’t notice the visitor. “Help me,” sobs the man in chains. “Help me!” “Nice to … Continue reading
Still waiting
Wake up. Just wake up and come back, would you? I can hear you, when I’m sleeping. I can hear you when I dream. I can almost taste you, the kisses that weren’t ever ours. You’re not far, but it’s … Continue reading
What It's Like
Something is rising up, a tide of sick that never crests at the throat, never crosses the tongue, is never allowed out. It swells and swells, a gorge that threatens but refuses to be purged. It lifts heavy chains, anxiety, … Continue reading
What It’s Like
Something is rising up, a tide of sick that never crests at the throat, never crosses the tongue, is never allowed out. It swells and swells, a gorge that threatens but refuses to be purged. It lifts heavy chains, anxiety, … Continue reading
Exhaustion
There isn’t enough in me to sun the green or water the root, not enough in me to find the sky or rest my bough. I am done, ever so done, already always done.