Submissions by Everly

Sometimes, when the Sun is still  
hiding and the least you could do is fall  
awake.    
But talking in your sleep will do just  
fine. I’ve told you to put that clock away.  
It can’t keep time anymore than  
it’s time for me to get up and  
get going while I still can’t see you. I know  
your heat so well that the doorknob bites at  
my fingertips.    
This hallway needs a friend and I keep tripping  
over these goddamn candles you keep  
putting by my feet. How do you expect me to  
redox or retox, I can’t...

Where to the well-forgotten guides?
In shrinking times as these, they only wish no more
If all prospects cannot deceive the third eye
To rip ambitions from the thickened air
Widows weaving veils of burning Sun by the evening Moon
The letting slows as the heart palpitates
So too prominent the darkening waters
Sickly green with the virtues of common men
Tides recede and I the only left to follow
Sinking, do I lower my lips to drink once again?
Lie and cheat thirst below the emerald waves
While they, lavishly thieving the broken streets
Cry at the...

Delirium deals a devastating wake
So callow, pulling the airy strings at heart
Yet drawing near on flighty descent
Urging me back down the depravity days
Show me shades of the crescent moon
When the pheromones of heated blood lead me
The battered beast gnawing at his chains
Sneering, the prey sifts through the thicket
The scent caught and the chase embarks
Fly the weary streams of stars
Or fall fool to the manic dreams
Take His righteous grasp from around my throat
I refuse the chaste blade begging for flesh
No wine flow forth from His...

I am a moonlighter of contemplation
Mechanics at work leave me to my fingertips
Clamber the cobbled stairs, scars of my own
Kiss the stony stories at the feet of fleeting dreams
Call me towards sleep, writhing in Luna’s sheets
Abandon true purpose, reaching to wring it between my eyes
A scarlet note swimming in the alabaster air
Inches within range, leagues tangled in the mind
Wayward in the mythic mists of credence
Have at it, limb, weak and unfeeling
For the night is a harbinger of morn
And mourn should I have it none ...

What is it to spend the foredays
Obsess with white vellum leaves
Pacified in the ceaseless seraphim
Grenadine wax bears heraldry
Bow tied and stranded to shimmer  
Scrawling till sweet satiety dawns
When even the beggar mocks
Thrown by the preach and practice
Above the threshold of his antiquity  
The raven’s scores of Old
The skald’s dying breath on the wind
That carries towards the cage beneath my chest
Drown conjecture in wells of black dialect
But the sensation stains my skin  
Redder than the fault in the...