‘For Only This Moment’ by J. W. Carter

The sickness washes over me like a curling wave of blackest ink

If you wish to see the sky turn red, you must first cut your hands upon the silk

There was once a valley I recall from youth

I only find within myself

Shame

Fear

Terror

Rotten thoughts

I crawl among the terrace of a thousand moldy gardens

The flowers filled with the stench of bile and piss

Have you ever been convicted of a crime? She asked it so sweetly I was tempted to reply

It will all be broken now and then

If you try to reassemble it, it will only be a waste of your fading time

Perhaps to pray to some god, maybe to seek a dark repentance

A scrap of teal blue sky remains

Clutch it to your face and make a wish

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