There Have Been Strange Men Coming Down Here
The bugs on windowsills like a little camera, the skirts lay dirty across the basement loose chess pieces after madness ended the game. I wear this glove of a ghost over my skin The soul still preaches out cynical waves the bars on the windows as cold as the haughty icing that caresses its pane. while the pain is grenades during a beautiful hymn. Play bashful to the soul takers bless me with the blankets not the smothering ones bless me with the cradling and visions of the temple. Don't leave me prone to the majestic I want the sour to be removed and the spell crippled away by Jesus Christ and Violas playing for me forever let me forget that there have been Strange Men coming down here. Minutes after my shadows dissolved with the night. Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. The return & revised version of “New Disease Streets” by David L O’Nan Poetry and stories Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren
Fevers of the Mind 