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J Snow

The August Chosen Poet is J Snow

Please feel free to email J at:

jensnowauthor@gmail.com

snow

JUST A GAME

My legs shake from holding me up
my eyes
blank
white
witness the blinding truth of existence
I wrap a shawl around the frailty of brittle bones
hold myself together
it’s frayed edges like rivulets of tears slide down
broken wings
tucked beneath scars tattooed across my arms
I lean on a cane carved
by tiny moments
ten thousand days
the brevity of memories
cackling like the laugh of Death
crackling like kindling set ablaze
but it cannot hold the weight of my longing
for release
for peace
of the pressure pushing down
on my
uncertainty
of the ache swelling inside my veins
because no one cares
because to them
I am just a game

CARCASSES OF BLOATED BEASTS

night
opaque liquid secretions
infected sanguine tissue
impregnated industry machines

day
slivered trails sliced beneath cement canopies

homes
toxic sludge of rippling carbon alloy creeks

humankind
whittled into matchstick marionettes shackled by self-serving ideologies

silhouettes of seething creatures born from rage and flame hold ground against rising hysteria

stillness is starvation

time yawns and swallows deep the decay of secrets and regrets

shrieks of desolation roll in a bitter aching silence
as the hounds of Hell
feast on the carcass of bloated beasts
and society stitches itself back together in a frenzy

with delicate threads of loneliness and misery

PROPER MEDICATION

Again,
I think in riddles,
overlapping sequences

now,
three days gone beneath the blackness of blankets
a fortress of insecurities
eye tremors,
whispers tremble on bitter lips

I hold a shaky breath
then let it loose to the wind;
it catches in my throat,
swells

the thrusting beats of a tired, weary heart,
locked inside a rusting ribcage,
rage against my eardrums

my bones crackle like kindling of bonfires,
craving oxygen

I heave a forced and deep inhale
chew the pill
silence the constant insanity-inducing thought streams—
imprisoning,
impregnating my mind,
distorting my perception of happiness
like a thousand slivers of glass blowing inward,
copious splinters borrowing into my withering spirit
but
proper medication
brings stillness to distorted frontal lobes,
numbs the ache of perpetual cerebellum contortions

J Snow is a poet and author of psychological tales of terror whose work has been described as disturbing, visceral, haunting, and powerfully evocative. Snow pulls inspiration from personal experience to provide readers a peek inside the splintered psyche of an abuse/abduction survivor and uses her insight into the sociopathic mind to breathe life into harrowing, multidimensional characters that have both horrified and fascinated those of conventional morality for decades.

Snow’s concentration has primarily been short stories and poetry, published in Hellbound, Horrified Press, Zombie Pirate, Nothing Books, Pathways and several more, but her focus has recently shifted to her own literary journal: Blood Puddles—Silent Screams in Liquid Darkness

Founder of the Scribblers Writing Organization and creator of its online writing community, she also helps her fellow authors by researching and providing writing opportunities to help foster their growth in the industry.