Featured art by L.H. Grey

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Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross “A Familiar Taste”

Is it just me
who can see
the cold steel

approaching

Glinting.
Hinting.

And very soon to be encroaching

Have I invited its ice into my spire

Doth my protest herein request

Am I glass to see right through
Falsified by eyes of truth

Must this knife party commence
Where’s the sense
Is it too late to repent

Can’t I play the moot observer
Insubstantial
No choice but concede

Must I bleed

All signs seem to point to

Indeed.

Fissure forming
Diamond slicing
Not once or twice but thrice in.

Enticing the scarlet sap to reveal
Persuasive is this steel

One clean motion
Slides in deeper
Such devotion
hath this Reaper

Beat the last my windswept heart

Rampart breached
Overreached

Inner Sanctum
Now – Besieged.

Bleeding in.
Bleeding out.

Thumb to rule.
Glass half full.

A deluge of ripest rouge
Glugging

Chugging train of steaming pain
Bereft of gain
Must abstain

Slain.

Bittersweet release

Sword now sheathed
Fate bequeathed

Valve released
Jets unleashed

Comes the gusher

Everything must go

Everything.

Glass.
Now.
Empty.

…

Raise a toast

Swill.

Savor.

Refill.

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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