Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Struggle Bus By Alex S. Johnson


Take the wheel she

said this


Will not move. The ruts 

exhaled a bittersweet smell


It did not smell like victory.


Whoever, eventually, in this case

it's you,


Dies alone. Mourning the gradual 

decay of their faculties and


The perfume of pre-morbid 


Death.


A slab of marble already

etched in


Heaven


With words that singe, black


Imperishable


A spiral of dark


Energy driving it down

like sex


Over and over and over. 




Alex S. Johnson is a journalist, dark fiction author, poet, editor and publisher. A few of his books are THE DOOM HIPPIES, DOCTOR FLESH, BIZARRELY DEPARTED, FREAKS OF HELL, BUREAU OF DREAMS, THE FLOWERS OF DOOM and SKULL VINYL. He runs Nocturnicorn Books, does THE SMOL BEAR N' PICKLES YOUTUBE SHOW with his partner Alea Celeste Wiliams, and has inhabited a body lacerated with terrible pain for the past seven years. He lives in Carmichael, California with his family. 

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