Artwork by Russell Mills


Deliberating muses. Artistic overload. System failure, should I try to force anything out of them


internal meltdown.


Hard drive is being up-graded.


I am, an automated piece of flesh.


My heart, beats to a rhythm, of systematically incorrect disposition.


This is a …strange condition


Right brain = left brain connectivity. Without 1 the other will simply not do justice to itself or the rest of the conjunction.


Equilibrium is thrown off kilter. Vertigo haze – the connoisseur finds herself amidst a vast sea of degrading, opaque emotions – in syringe form. Try as they may, to inject into her veins the threat of hiatus – this equals, naught.


Many will seek the way, but few will find the luminescence – yet still, many, will be blinded by that which shines like the Morning Star.


Several, will arise like phoenix from flame – a narrowly averted disaster – the culmination of Gods turned fleshly, inhabiting a fabrication of that which was, is and shall always – be –


Canvas. Blank.


I am vagrant amidst the ocean of myself (s) – traveling by foot, down 1 pathway, one undivided nation within myself (s) the commander and chief of my one woman army. My heart, is disguised as warmth to hide the – arsenal lying beneath its veins – like – conduits – nevermore – never-ending – full-blown-velvet-revolver-loaded – ever-constantly with a full clip – packing heat –


And baby – I give fair warning –


If you romanticize about my trigger – don’t blame my artillery for the after-effect – bullets riddling your brain – a maelstrom – passionate about assassination –


A menagerie of stolen moments, taken risks, lost kittens and abused dolls – intertwined with the alter-ego of lavender angels – sunspots collected upon off-white carpets in midsummer days – and steam from fresh coffee, rising into the winter night – awakening the elegance of the full moons stride.


I have a confession :


It was I, disguised as poison upon the lips of the fair Juliet – I desired the comfort of an eternal kiss, so I sought the lips of a fairytale creature – comfortably numb as it was, I could not remain there forever.


Romeo, Romeo – wilt thou ever find it within thine heart, to forgiveth mine sins?


One tenth of my heart is bride to be of the great and wonderful Dante – so off with my seventh crown and down into the depths of hell, I sometimes can be found – banishing myself into exile – to walk amongst the sinners – with feet of golden ash. Footprints, leading the way down into the spiraling abyss – time lapses and I find oblivion to be nothing less than – perfection, tainted with maleficent kindred blood.



I. Taste. Like. Heaven.


Until, of course – my Ouija board is opened, and I – am invoked – into the hearts and minds of many – who – presume to have a clue –

Ah how the tongue is quite binary – a bastard sword disguised as poetic justice…

Mother is the name of God on the hearts and lips of all children.


Revelations ensue…


Time lapsing like waves of pristine armor coagulating – conforming and configuring to my body –


Light as a feather, yet – heavy still, is the absence of my wings.


And atop my head, perched – divination – the crown reigning – contradictory to the flesh and blood spilt upon the sand of a land, Holy –


The Enigma of the Absolute – in sorrow, purged from sacrifice – slain like a lamb -in pure blood for the sins of – imperfection –


I’ve conversed with the Majestic – Sacred Heart – Wisdom she implied



In a whispered hush or words disguised as the wing of a Dove – Tis better to reign in Hell – than to endorse the heavens above



L.H. Grey



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