I live in the gayborhood. For pride month, they repainted the lines (There are rainbows painted at the intersections). It got me thinking. Should I repaint my lines? What lines do I cross, or not cross, that I should reevaluate? There is magic in renewal. Is there not? What if I cross lines I should stop crossing, and cross lines I should have been exploring why they even fucking exist in the first place? What if lines that were faded, could be repainted, and everyone would see something new? What if I saw something new? What if I saw you?

aka Blair Witch Project III (the lost film)

The blood red moon foretold great evil in the woods that night. With fire in their hearts they set up camp. More specifically, Lady Prose set-up camp to the soundtrack of the Flame Lord's clickety clacking on the keyboard. Click clack. Click clack. Clickety clack. Click clack. The slightly off-beat rhythm of a white man. Figures he would type like he dances.

She shook the smile from her lips but couldn't keep the shine out of her eyes. "Flame Lord, I summon you to the fire pit!" Click clack. Click clack. Clickety clack. Crackety crack. Although he was shrouded in darkness, that last crackety crack betrayed his approach. "Yes milady?"

"Start the fire, won't you?"

"It won't keep the beast away, you know."

"I'm not scared of any beast. I have some poetry I would like to burn. Also, I have some marshmallows."

"How big do you want it?"

"As big as you can get it." The Flame Lord swallowed his "that's what she said" and proceeded to build the fire. Lady Prose wandered over to the typewriter and let her fingers dance over the keys. Before she knew it, she had a new poem to burn.

Suddenly, the woods became eerily silent. The fire crackled and the night air picked up and began to howl around her, though nary a leaf rustled. A purple bucket was placed at her feet. TheWolfeDen. Of course. Lady Prose caught the glint of the guillotine blade in the firelight and immediately knew she was not going to be invited to brunch next.

The wind shifted and revealed the presence of putski, thePearl and Shells ready to witness the execution. "Any final words?" TheWolfeDen intoned in strangely sultry timbre.

"Let me just change into something more comfortable."

The systematic

Raping

Of my soul

Left me

More than alive

But less

Than whole

And sometimes

When I explore

The depth

Of my fracture

I realize

It was never

Wholeness

I was seeking

It was the severance

Of my being

A schism

So complete

Looking back

Would be

Like reading

Someone else's story

The visceral reaction

To trauma

Gone

The nightmares

Gone

The guilt

The shame

Those cornerstones

Of my eternal

Hell

Gone

Just

Poof

And all

That would remain

Is this little frame

A new foundation

And quiet

Admiration

Of the half of me

Which wasn't ruined

She asked me to see the stars and I had nodded in an absent trance. There was too much noise in my ears and too many lines in my nose. But, she wanted to see the southern skies through my eyes. And Williamsburg mountain wasn't a hop skip and a jump, but she was there. An hour drive to heaven and peace and her wrapped in my arms. An hour drive to show her something in me, something unsettled...yet rooted and wild. And so I lit a joint and slid in shotgun. A far cry from the noisy bar on main street.

She took my joint and I took her hand. Feigning for a cigarette, I fumbled for my dispo, just to take a hit. Needing something. Something more familiar than the sound of her voice, singing quietly along with the silky tones of Lana del Rey.

*We were Born to Die or we were immortal.

Tonight nothing made sense *

The roads were empty. 2 a.m and counting and her hand was on my inner thigh. Resting easy and comfortable. We turned the curve and shifted down. The hum of the engine and the softs sounds of the radio melted together, into some melodic hum...with fireflies and crickets and the sounds of the Appalachian Mountains, swaying in and out of my mind. Torn and broken, addled by drink and drug...

I felt her lips against my neck. Warm, soft and inviting. I pulled away, for a moment.

A tinge of guilt.

And then I pulled her closer, kissed her deeper before I let the walls rebuild...

I stepped outside and she followed, sheepish.

I pointed out the constellations,

As her hands slid beneath my shirt. A sudden give inside of me...and I gave into to the softness of her touch, calloused fingers exploring my skin. I leaned into her and gave in.

Naked flesh finding naked flesh. She was warm and wet and ready.

And the quiet moans, as I slid inside of her, seemed to echo through swaying pines.

We watched the sunrise from the hood of her benze. Lost somewhere in the coming sun and our discretions.

As John took his final breath, there was a sudden flash of light above his body. His family and the medical staff watched with amazement as this persistent and extreme flashing continued.

The light was so powerful that it was almost blinding, drowning out everything else in the room. The flashing was erratic, almost as if the light was trying to communicate something.

The mood inside the room was one of curiosity and confusion. No one had an explanation for what was happening. They were all just mere mortals witnessing something extraordinary.

As the minutes passed, the flashing intensified, and everyone watched, not daring to look away. It was at this point that a strange feeling of peace and tranquillity washed over the room, like nothing they had ever experienced before.

It was as if John was no longer present, his soul had been called up to another realm, and the flashing light was a final farewell.

The brightness began to fade slowly, and the room returned to its usual state. The flashing had stopped completely, and everyone was left feeling stunned and bewildered.

For weeks after John's death, people would talk about the flashing light above his body and how it had made them feel.

Some called it a religious experience, while others claimed it was an extraterrestrial communication. But one thing was for sure, it had left an indelible impression on all who witnessed it.

As time passed, the extreme flashing above the body after death became somewhat of a phenomenon, with reports all over the world of similar events occurring.

The medical community was left scratching their heads, with no explanations for what was happening. But for many, the flashing light was proof that there was an afterlife and that death was just a passage to another existence, to a place far more beautiful than where John first began his original life.

The problem

With you

Telling me

Of your disdain

For other people

Is that everywhere

I turn

There you are

Espousing

The rhetoric

Of the inclusionist

And keeping rhythm

To the banging

Of the drum

Of the war monkey

As new

And old

Flags wave

Your demands

Shift recklessly:

To be heard

And equal.

No matter

The price.

And a myriad

Of other things

That have never

Existed throughout

Human history

Where the final

Arguments

Will ultimately

Be remembered

By no one

Courtesy

Of all of us

Going

Full tilt batshit

As the world

Lights up

And burns

David Burdett

7/8/2021

Fire burns desperate

Or maybe in vain

Love you I do

Love me back

Oh won’t you?

Won’t you take a hint?

Mine I want you to be

Evermore

If ever

You catch

The tear

I allow

To escape

From the corner

Of my eye

I guess you're my catch

Except

If you try

To touch me

It's most likely

I'll hit you

So

Goodluckwiththat

Burn

Scald

Drive acidic rivulets down the interior of my orbital bone

For what

So you don't know

Don't see

The sadness in Mee

You're so pretty

They say

So sweet

They say

Unable

From there

To comprehend

The depths

Of my malcontent

Yet there's a "fuck you"

In every smile

A "fuck you"

In every nod

A "fuck you"

In every acquiescent word

That spills forth

From my mouth

Because the only truth

Is that

Which I allow to live

Through paper

My words

Here

I share with you

The shattered few

Who know enough

To feel Mee

Or stay silent

I hurt

On the in breath

I hurt

On the out breath

So meditation

Can go fuck itself

Yeah

Maybe

I'm not

In the best mood

Go

Read somebody happy

Read yourself happy

Tell me if it works

I saw a flash

of you in my

brighter days,

a blip

freckle

on an otherwise

unmarked face

Invasively,

intruding,

into life

A comparison

unwanted

A memory

denied

I heard

your voice

creep into one

more familiar these

days

I asked you

to leave

You chuckled,

stayed