the blue recluse in the black leather coat
side steps like a hermit crab over the man
lying lowly in the gutter, that man is me,
look at him bleed! all the while...
he is a child, lost, alone, confused....
(belly laughter erupts from the lazy ghetto night.)
shuffling like the gentle jazz rain on a sad southern
rooftop laced in a thin veil of acidic mystery,
still breeding insanity anew, oh
it's quite glamorous to be fucked in the head
now, to be trapped in between this stagnant nightmare, lies
among the living quadrants of daisy chained arms,
thus entwined, to the thunderous rapture of the sub
conscious, lurking just beneath the stark-laden, doom
riddled dawning of another lonesome morning.
beads of stale beer cover broken bottles resting askew.
Into this neglected palace of glass,
roaming inconspicuously, yet sloped in the
suspension of the mild night air; betwixt.
Retribution always looming and forlorn in the
silken cusp of onyx scepter. The nightmares of
radiant lovers past, now blossom; thus becoming
her muse.
Lost in death-throes, some ill begotten
soul left in this realm, be-sodden, my
heart shattered upon the bare cobbled
lanes at this; the bewitching hour.
Diamonds adorn her limbs in bare decadent
attachment; I lye now beside her, broken; in some blood
river of deceit.
L. Wayne Russell hails from Tampa, Florida and has been writing creatively since he was five years old. Wayne has been published in various zines over the years, including The Cannon's Mouth Quarterly, The Rolling Thunder Press, and Poets Espresso. His first flash fiction story, "Breaking Point," has recently been published at Staxtes.com Greek Literary Review via their English Wednesdays Internet zine. Wayne can be reached via Facebook.