Poetry by DB Cox phantom in the machinery

1.

i sense the acceleration
but don’t care
to stop the fall
too tired
to stretch far enough
to bridge the disconnect
the slow-downward
drag of the wind
strangely comforting
back-floating
red eyes locked
on the night sky
looking for confirmation
of something-anything
to save me
from nothing-everything
fully aware
of the smiling
motherfuckers who thrive
on my complacency
& applaud my stylish
deadly habits

2.

once i was beautiful
jesus hair falling behind
burning blue like a storm
crazy for destination
now i borrow light
like the moon
overexposed like a bad photo
transistors shot-a bad radio
a formless phantom
composed of exhaustion
shaped in the image
of isolation
dreaming of leaning
out over the river
from a ghostly railway bridge
prepared to sacrifice myself
to know
convinced the universe is a mistake
looking for an escape
a loophole
that leads around god’s rules

3.

again
it might be night
& it is
drunk here
in this room
too small to contain
my loneliness
mind gray
& vacant
searching the solitude
for clues
that might unlock
this chinese
fucking puzzle box
slow movement
forward
through another day
nothing left to say
that doesn’t sound
like nonsense
quiet anguish
as my imaginary
rushmore crumbles
& falls away-
how long
has this dust
been descending

————–

DB Cox is a blues musician/writer from South Carolina. His writing hasappeared in Underground Voices, Sein Und Werden, Dogmatika, ThunderSandwich, Dublin Quarterly, Aesthetica, Bonfire, Gator Springs Gazette, Heat City Review, Snow Monkey, Southern Hum, Southern Gothic and others.

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