A sky in the blood crimson
And the shrill on hell’s black coal sings
like a kangaroo, left-hand dance
you’ll see, of the deep sun that rings
courage as never loved before—
burdenless. The mania does advance
such cello keel unto the strum,
which is seldom ever performed outdoor.
A lover so woozy by rum
staggers in a promenade. Soon
pitiful spirits and zombies
from the Christian graves by the moon
will waver to the sarabande
of skeletons with so much ease.
To the sound of the tune done false,
I ink love notes that come out grand.
Hey, drunk gambler let’s taste a waltz.
Editor: Obinna Eruchie
I woke up with surplus five heads. I was running down a Žička street, hoping that a kind soul finds us, some Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley sort, to sew us back up into a whole.
For a time, I was sneaking around in the shadows, facing ridicule, disgust, and dread.
No particular way to go, I was heading to the mountain Avala. Somewhere along the way, I got lost, exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst.
A lot of heads to feed!
Well, that lasted.. there re-arose an outstanding feud between heads; they say they have headaches, they cannot sleep, they raised their voices and wept some more.
The latest effort to speak the same language ended in failure, therefore, turning to the macabre practice of survival cannibalism absolutely was the key to our ultimate continual existence of the organism.
And the only survivor became the only suspect, the soft tissue monster head, bull shaped with serrated teeth, a pincer-like mouth, however, no one could clearly define its mysterious monstrosity.
A spineless reborn blood-drinking creature, whose name eludes me, was charged with four murders on August 24, 1776, defending itself in court, without a solicitor, that it has been acting in a manner befitting a sensible head, against her unhappy, yet brutal, and violent companions.
The acquittal based on self-defense was decided by a simple majority.