J.M. Nixon

A heavy suitcase is crammed inside me.
Packed full.
Sealed tight.
It weighs me down.
...

Flying horses.
All the colours of the sun bobbing in the night.
Swirling oranges and dazzling luminous snowflakes.
Spinning in a world of fun.
...

Sitting on the chair, broken.
The broken chair.
The broken lamp.
The broken door.
...

I douse my withered feet.
The curling skin crackles.
A torching pain boxes the body.
The salve does not relieve.
...

At night the phantasm appears in the dank aquarium.
Bubbling from a sunken castle.
The world drowns behind a stained glass bowl.
Sleep is enshrouded in ghastly sheets.
...

Suffer vultures to scavenge on your bereft carcass.
Tapering the palsied flesh.
Flapping in a frenzied gorge.
Lone creatures poised in proud plumage.
...

Stripped of my rainbow.
Spectrum boiled into gloaming gray.
Marbles lost.
Shaved into dusk.
...