Escape

dreams come to me at night
lady of death in light streams
reduced, crushed in paradise
beneath thunderous mountains

iced window, widows of weary ways
someday buried below stone
sunrise wrapped in saturated lies
softly, drums beat to broken bones

head in motion spin to melodies
feet tap… tap… pound to profanity
whisper to be free, chat to devils
as toxic thoughts spiral inside of me

scars on body and burdened mind
some earned, as days sing to darkness
pain swirls, aches are salient sins
the only true signs of life

closed eyes beg careless flies
the only true signs of life
do you feel the dead fade away
always falling to escape the lonely

COPYRIGHT © 2020 – BRIAN NETTLES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Image by ambroo from Pixabay

Whispers of Amsterdam (unedited prose)

so rare to think of anything anymore
moments, flashes, step by step, letting go
every memory takes me to the start,
one by one, dice rolls, predicting the fall

beautiful things lead to dead horizons
eyes make me feel so alone in darkness
went to find you (self) in a home of goodbyes
the endless pulls me in as silence drones

whispers carry me to the salted sea
what if rain falls, if only in madness,
to see the heaven of her bright eyes

golden apples, a balcony of chrome
dust storm of lost souls settles on Saturn
pain is perfected in hurricanes of shame
beneath sweat stained silk sheets,
12AM windows
fated, what is this tilted world made of…

onion layers, peeled back to creation
am I like you who breaks before dawn
before water softened jagged edges
realize I can’t quit but rather be gone
rearrange the scenes I’d still be alone

silhouettes eat me from imagined insides
as an eden of bombs show me the way
push, push, push to murky blue depths
(reverb) whisper to an ancient benevolent sea
encased, exposed flesh, all of grotesque me
what happens next, beyond nowhere, flee…

“Hey Siri”, tell me about the weather and
the path less taken. of reckless times
it doesn’t matter they’re the lucky, gone.

Where did all it all go… [space] … nvm I go
bring the chains… to carry me home.

Self-Exploration

Daylight sneaks, couldn’t speak,

haven’t slept well for days

Silent screams, verity of vertigo

as grey ghosts claw the underside of a lidded box

filled with ancient photos and dusty film.

Push further to explore dangerous depths

bound by legacy and weighted chains,

I am not the person I used to be.

COPYRIGHT © 2020 – BRIAN NETTLES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Image by miguelalvaro from Pixabay

Reckless

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quick words stream
like keyboard keys compelled by notes
as reckless hearts drift, bleed, freed;

hasty hearts roam landscapes,
pushed to overdrive,
passion accedes like backseat movies
under lights, on tables, between sheets

beat! moan!
bass clap thunders, shivers.

Copyright © 2019– Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

Image: Pixabay

Dreams of Love

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As she walked to the end of the wooden boards, the stars spoke to her.” Dreams of love were white feathers whisked through the heavens by the wind. Lapping waves were hypnotic as they crawled ashore from the royal-blue sea. The low hum of the ocean was a majestic symphony playing to his queen. She wondered when her love would arrive. She giggled and grinned, thinking of the kiss they shared last summer. Continue reading “Dreams of Love”