Wings Expire

JiggyTARmac

Save our dreams/ continuous, slow / wings expire / grown men weep into the chest of a female destroyer / eyes numb / the story continues / my rivers are all secrets / to the goddess in me/ reverse the sequence to be honestly free/ Fallen angels – Rising demons / Damascus / don’t make us ascend yet / Don’t mask our defeat / Dominoes / for the time being our hearts speak/ Had you spun the web of time/ oh, but I won’t say it/ Pierced by colors on my way to see you/ I bled a dream / From the mouth / From outwards / From now on / I follow the current of the abyss / I exist since then/ since the accident/ In most silent times I hear the voice of everything/ you push me up to the stadium, down the flight of stares / and I am wonder/ made powerful by possession across the state of emergence / merging streams /released as her voice/ its years of traveling / water will find a way / it’s a state of emerging seas/ so if you’ve plucked the equilibrium from your soul/ continue to spread it across equal distance/ watch people dance / recognize yourself /

Matt Holck

It all flows down to the sea
where the sun's heat licks the surface
and draws the moisture up
to collate to clouds that dance in the sky.

JiggyTARmac

an aged apocalypse-death quenches the burden of redemption on the footsteps of immortality. occupied deceit and an illuminated cancer- cantankerous arousing suspicion that all is not well at the well-twelve bells join forces since Saturn shaped illusions wept by the octagonal wasteland- a coalition of embellished desires timed by fire in a race to eight. the phoenix hung by the tree- avalanche on the strings of a violin- violent excursions subsidiary to condensation- everything predicted-everything exhumed- vacuous screaming sentience alongside months ago-forty labyrinths shattered into a female voice. it was the sun that fell and the moon that kept the secret- they tried to extradite the sound of myths aligning slang into symphonies-in a nut shell- i woke to the sound of bleached vinyl crackling – my voice arrested by gradual indoctrination – the gradient went well with saturated corpses resurrected as Jesus himself, the narrator, ordained the month of April- claiming the throne accumulates deeper visions then are able to be physically sung on this space corpse. Rotted to the cuboid – the Rubicon – Reflexes refrained – the case was thrown-the judges drowned-the neighbors watched-astral projections on the wall-insinuations spun with. Charming the abyss, jealous glances over at the free fall.