Posts Tagged ‘spilledink’

I was 3,200 feet below the surface in the old long abandoned and forgotten mines that pockmark the back hills of the Searles Valley to the north-east of Ridgecrest.
It’s a different time and a different world down there. You can still see the scorch marks from the old oil lamps that used to hang from the rusted iron hooks placed along the shaft walls. The smell is a mix of old earth and timber. Long ago the timber used to have a sweet smell to it, but all the sap has long since dried up and been leached from the wood. Most of the old equipment had been stripped from the mine but the further you go, the more the past starts to reveal itself.
There was no slow build-up to the quake. Not like the movies where things shimmy back and forth. The only warning I had was the roar that came from the snapping of supports as the earth rolled like an ocean wave around me. Even the air itself, having spent years settling into its void of a home breathed anew.
Dust that was flung from the timber supports, as well as the roof and walls of the shaft itself, blew against my face as I closed my eyes.
The track that sat rusted and unused below my feet popped and pinged as it was displaced from the floor in parts. The spikes that were driven into the earth hundreds of years ago gave off puffs of rust tinted dust that covered my boots.
I wasn’t sure if the mine would hold and whispered my goodbyes to my loved ones.
While most of it did hold up to the quake, portions of it did not.
It’s been a month now since the quake, but only a couple weeks since I was able to dig myself free of Mother Earths wanting embrace. Someday she will reclaim me for the final time but until then, I have more to explore.


After 70 years of heroic battles and unfavorable odds, he sat before the fire. Hands stiffening with arthritis and scars covering more of his body than not he held his cape as tears welled up in his eyes.
He couldn’t even remember all the fights, all the hard-won battles anymore. At some point, it all became a blur as time stretched a haze over a life spent saving others, saving the world.
He tossed the cape into the fire and watched it burn.
“Maybe this world wasn’t meant to be saved.” He whispered.

We stood at the crossroads of two highways long since abandoned to time. The moon hid behind the clouds in the night sky. Ashamed and confused.
The devil took his time reading from my list.
Finally and with a tired but curious glance over the top of the paper he asked, “How do you propose to pay for these things?”
“With time,” I answered.
He nodded slowly and licked his lips before extending his hand, “We have a deal then.”
I shook his hand firmly and smiled, “Deal.”
In the blink of an eye, my life was ended and I stood apart from my body as it collapsed to the ground. The asphalt reached up and pulled it under slowly but without a sound.
The devil looked at me then with a tear in his eye. “Thank you for this,” he said as he handed me the keys to Hell and slowly vanished into thin air.
My watch had begun.

She soaked fishnets in kerosene
Then playfully parted her thighs
Now I’m drunk on the fumes
Tongue numb, whispering lullabies
I can taste her through the vapor
Hear her moan and feel her grind
As she tangles fingers in my hair
We’re completely intertwined
I hear the strike, see the spark
And smile at the games she plays
As my eyes find hers in the dark
She sets us both ablaze


Posted: December 28, 2017 in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , ,
There’s smoke in your eyes
The way they shadow away the shame
There’s smoke in your eyes
Can I fan the coal to flame?

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face as he slowly lifted the front of her shirt.
Her eyes were closed, a mix of anticipation and excitement clouded with a bit of shyness seemed to wash over her.
He felt for the edge of her bra and gently peeled it away, the soft fabric not giving him much of a fight.
As he leaned closer she arched her back towards him. His eyes still on her face he felt her nipple brush against his lips as a moan broke the seal of hers.
He started to open his mouth when a something long and slimy pushed out from her nipple, brushed past his lips, and darted into his mouth. He reflexively gagged and tried to pull away but it slid deeper down his throat, pulling him to her like a tether. He tried to look down but could see nothing as his face mashed into her bosom. When he tried to nash his teeth together it simply slipped between them like a string, only to grow inside his throat. His breath was stolen as he tried to claw at her with his hands. Each time he raked his fingernails down her skin she shivered and moaned as she cradled the back of his head with her hands and whispered, “Thank you.”
He bucked and tried to pull free, but the only thing that moved was the pile of bones beneath her bed.
The shadows outside pushed against the glass of the window as they watched.
One of them scrawled in the condensation, “Beautiful.”

Is this fiction? Maybe. Or maybe once upon a time, I was a shadow. Maybe now you know why you sometimes catch me glancing at your chest. It isn’t perversion that drives me to do such things. It’s preservation.

She self-destructs so silently
Never the volcanic outcry of torment
She shakes like the shiver before the dawn
But wilts and tears loose the petals
Revealing salty tears of dew
That seep to surface
So slowly

I see you

With your
Scars behind bars
How you flirt with the curtains
Let the starlight flicker
Across the old
A grin to show they won
But there is danger on your quiet tongue
Your eyes they betray
The portrayed calm
Nothing is alright
Your fingertips still pull away red
From the hem of that dark dress

I have handfuls of tears
To wash away the blood
But I’m locked away
Within my own cage
Scars behind bars
Dipping toes into the spotlight
As the curtains slam closed
Just long enough to juggle
Distractions for the masses
So they can laugh and cheer
In the dark

I’m sorry