Sent Backwards In Time To Research The Ever Diminishing Returns Of Regret

Whistle under cover of darkness,

a man erased from space-time,

future and past selves annihilating

in an explosion of particles,

matter and antimatter thrown

back into balance like

the early universe never grew up,

as if a single proton was

all that ever existed,

a blinking flutter of something

adrift in a sea of forsaken possibility.


This man, shaped like a scarecrow,

stuffed overalls revealing the confusion of animation,

movements masquerading as heartbeat,

the wind’s caress flowing

like the airy blood of nostalgia,

a sepia toned image of young love,

kissing under an ancient tree,

touching fingertips and carving an epitaph of eternity

with the endlessly sharp knives of their meeting eyes.


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic






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