Poetry: Selections from Robert J. W.

Running Towards A Sun That Never Rises
Lay my head in
clouds holding blistered words.
I’ll drench myself in
grief for a
life never lived.
We all
dream of
dead men, spending them
like the
lies we tell ourselves.
My heart is
a cannonball; it’s
stained with
sepia mistakes but
keeps me
towards a
sun that never rises.
Let the
darkness drill into
my eyes so I
finally gain sight.
I’ll regret my
growth yet
bathe in it as if
I’m an
infant, gasping
for breath in a
sea of stars
suffering from
rigor mortis.

Maybe Heaven Is The Space Between Traumas
I cannot
hate myself into a
joyous life.
I’m rebelling against
the standards I set when
I crawled with
the angel’s wing.
Maybe Heaven is the
space between traumas.
My mouth still holds
a pacifier.
It tastes of
peaches and
glass religion.

A Guillotine Over The World’s Neck
My mood rises and
falls like a
guillotine over the
world’s neck.
May my years of
progress roll into the
potential I
lost along the way.
None of it
shall be missed.

I Show Myself Love Like A Politician
I show myself love
like a politician.
My forearms are
laced with promises for
stagnant air.
Breathe in and you’ll
taste the forgetfulness.
All of my
organs are
voids into which I
whisper a
dead language.
won’t listen.

Robert J. W. is a poet and writer from Morgantown, WV. He has been writing poetry for 20 years now. He has frequently published collections with Alien Buddha Press (including Dusty Video Game Cartridges and Bed of Bones) as well as being featured in several of their zines and anthologies. He enjoys listening to music, meditating, reading, and hanging with friends.