Submissions by jonskiigator (Jonathan Martin)

Shot glasses dished out,
filled half way with cloudy
cracks of ice,
topped, left quarter empty
by the holder's choice.
Deep brown liquids or
clear.

Tastes like blood.

First hand dealt by
small man in the corner.
He's got a wince
that wails down his spine
and itchy ballpoint eyes.
Bets laid to rest
on stage. Man
with chestnut hat
and checkered tie
makes a bluff, only
Corporal Pearson, 42,
on the line.

Loose change falls
from journalists hand and
stirs enough to have an
appology from...

Out of town, just off the
Public trail and to the left
Leap-frog the low barbed fence,
From there I don’t know the way
But every time I lose myself I find it
The place I walk;
The place she walks.

There is a curling brook, limply
Meandering through mossy rocks
Churning the growth lightly into a cream
Texture; it melts with your touch
To her touch, it seems; to her
Eyes where rock meets grass;
Ears with the trickling.

It’s twilight at midday,
Ambient half-light at night,
From a damp Northern-European canopy, and
That...

tortuous and failing
at something or other
that she’s left behind
or in front
or holding too tight
between
betwixt
embrangled fingers
and the cigarette butt
the broken glass
if not the bottle
that she’s been left
behind
or in front
beneath
fixed
her last decision and
the ‘next,’ blandly
mumbling each foot
in front of the other
tentatively
tortuous and failing
in the charity
dingy room
outskirts
and all she wants
is her
next fix
to-break-her
better

The bitter taste in my mouth,
And as the snarl of a beast I grimace,
Understand but not enough to know,
My suffering.

The strain in the back of my neck,
And as a leaf I let the wind carry me away,
Smiles cannot hide, nor tears undo,
The bitter taste in my mouth.