More ticking in my head

a cross of dirt

the hot summer sun

fingers, frets and gut

¬

cold fish, midnight sky
pulls the stars across his gills
the moon in his eye
¬

heed nothing, no one

venison, ravening dogs

no more ants patrol

¬

good massage gone bad
look up, surprise! leaking shards
moe green’s red glasses
¬

deserted off-ramp in the dark
a cooling engine
tick tick tick
no occupants
but
the radio
plays
¬

sanguineous ops
median cubital jab
vacutainers slaked
¬

black ribbon through green woods
leaping deer, squeezing calipers
asphalt peels my face
¬

in the ditch
pupils fixed and dilated
staring up at nothing
¬

larvae in my head
my stagnant noggin puddle
mental mosquitoes

¬

asphalt under waxing moon
brake lights flash
an arm extends
my doom
¬

blanket on the floor

decline, pain, merciful death

old good-dog is gone

© Pseudocognitive