Treasure Island

Mark R Slaughter


She’s Gone


Eyes bemused –
A disconnect

Dermal swathes of young and old
Reject the guessing of your age

You’re blind –
A blueprint for blankness

Your dreaming pipes through nothingness –

Are you still afloat? – atop the oceans,
Heaving, heavy over Hell,
Boiling, spoiling in a mind that couldn’t cope.

Ah! but Death smiles
And so do you

Kissing Him
Is all to do!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011










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The Suicide Train

suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide

Submitted: Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Edited: Thursday, October 06, 2011

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