Dennis Fausz Poems

A cream colored blip melted in a glass tube.
A broken bic pen inhaling its precious poisonous fumes.
All my anxieties swirl away, as I stare into a bright orange and dull blue flame.
...

I sit here silently thinking
Of being there, yet
Whenever I get there,
I sit there and think of
...

Needful Injections3: 15Am
Soaking these shards in a silver spoon,
Last shot was at mid-night,
This shot's for noon.
...