Discover Top Posts Tagged with #doom riddles

Dangerous Games on the Snowy Streets

August 8th garage beam smokey smile 1979 amber rust on the hinges of my fingers Summer gull with a swollen neck dive bombing the chimney steam Shedding feathers to the moonlight, shedding skin to the stars Like bones caught in its beak, like veins dangling from the snout The cellist can’t keep her hair tucked behind her ears She’s committing crimes with romance eyes And bringing it all back to her home of mangled shopping carts No dancing on the roof, her back is sore No dancing on the roof, she needs her sleep No dancing on the roof, waltzing’s just fine

//Dangerous Games on the Snowy Streets from Doom Riddles [Available Now]

#poem #poetry #writing #art #doom riddles

Doom Riddles VII

“It appears he has rabies, but that shouldn’t be an issue anymore. Let the iron bars devour him, save his blood for the crocodiles in hell. Cognac, what a dirty drink.”

They stripped the enormous corpse, breathing the steam that emerged from every cracked bone and severed vessel. They hung bits of sinew from the rafters in their sheds and barns to dry. A few gathered around fires in front yards, roasting large chunks of flesh and muscle for the feast.

“Fuck. I feel so sick.” He’s on his knees in the shower. He repeats the words “Fresh Shrimp, Fresh Shrimp” until he vomits down the drain.

“It’s just a false flag, don’t worry yourself.” There are signs of a struggle down the hall, an indistinguishable screaming through the walls followed by a heavy thud. “No worries,” he grins through Echeveria teeth.

6:30 PM: Swallow capsules, after effect, protect metals, wait for mask signal.

Feeling like the man from Taured. Where have you gone? You’ve taken everything I’ve known with you. I’m afraid my stomach will rupture with the next swell. But when it blooms, I will fall apart. This will all end, and this is right.

//Doom Riddles VII from Doom Riddles [Available Now]

#writing #poetry #poem #doom riddles #taured

Saints

Strip away my face like an expired billboard; We’ll share our chests between our teeth like sea foam beasts Remove my heart and its confused rivers and crooked dams, feed it to the dreariest beach in Glasgow when the water swells like your lips from too many front porch kisses.

There’s an orchard beneath your dress, a dizzy albatross napping in the leafs, thirsting for the secrets in the hair tucked behind your ear and there are saints whose names I’ve never learned buried beneath your wrists, nestled within the roots with peppermint leafs beneath their tongues and dreaming of helicopter wrecks in the mangled chain link fence teeth of a lethargic hilltop.

Speak to me something foreign, like growing hornets nests in the chipped wooden drawers of your desk until we fall asleep sleep to the sounds of humming birds and wheelchairs drowning in the oceans in our wood grain fingertips.

// Saints from Doom Riddles [Available Now]

#poetry #poem #writing #mick malone #doom riddles

Kite and Key Stories

There is ink beneath my feet. Once a drop, then a puddle and now an ocean. You are a strong wind with open arms and fishing hooks in your hair attached to the things that hide beneath the surface. I rolled off my mattress into the water, I spoke nonsense through jellyfish air bubbles and covered my eyes from the hooks. The stained coral buzz with radio noise, a digital glitch that had bled out from my bruised palms and vibrated between my teeth. There are sharks in the dark, there is treasure in the muck. I’m blindly raking the sand at the bottom until my fingernails are cracked and missing.

I miss you when the air is still, when the leaves bunch up on the ocean floor like sheets of paper beneath your desk. There are no waves to carry me to the shore, just the gashes from your fishing lines across my back and hands and the weakened taste of mint on my tongue.

I wrote to you, asked you to come with me to watch the cardboard skeletons melt in the rain at the high school. You said I’m a depressing malicious fuck, a bastard with dubious teeth. I threw your last letter into my swimming pool, watched the filter swallow it whole. I pulled individual characters out of the mesh with dead wasps and helicopter seeds. You were inviting me to sit at a table with you, fold out a map and make a plan.

Step one: I’ll unravel three yards of cinnamon dental floss and chew it for the next few hours. Step two: You drive through my panic attacks as I frantically stomp a phantom brake pedal. Step three: We make out for twelve minutes without breathing. Step four: I will punctuate everything you believe in with air quotes. Step five: Jean jackets. Step six: I bite at your fingertips till we sleep.

And when we wake up next, you’ll have to pump my stomach of gallons of ink. I’ll kiss you till your mouth is black. Till an ocean becomes a puddle become a drop becomes nothing. I’ll kiss you until there is nothing.

//Kite and Key Stories from Doom Riddles [Available Now]

#poem #poetry #writing #mick malone #doom riddles

Lime Hawk Literary Arts Collective is a group of storytellers, artists, and activists committed to promoting social change through the written and performing arts.

A short story of mine was just published in Lime Hawk’s Spring issue with a bunch of other great writers and visual artists. Check it out.

#lime hawk #mick malone #doom riddles #short story #fiction #writing