Submissions by TheHangingMan

BILLY touches his cigarette end to a sausage skin, burning through it, then squeezes the meat out. - stage direction from Sarah Kane's Skin

A plate of fried eggs and bacon,
plump sausages sweating like men
on a public beach in Spain.
Tomatoes red like blood, like blood
(why does this simile make them
sound even more delicious?),
and beneath them square
hot water bottles: two fried slices.
I wish to bury my face in the plate
and come up soaked in detritus,
like a soldier emerged from the trench,
almost lost behind fluids
drawn from a sad...

Is there no way out of the mind? - Sylvia Plath

There is no exit to the mind,
prison with one lonely fourth wall,
keeping the pews from the stage.
Grope it like a blind man,
sensing light. Just air. And yet, Alice,
you’ll never move beyond it and
reach Wonderland. The green neon sign
above the back door is a fake, don’t
trust it. It will lead you only into black.