Christopher Hivner writes from a small town in Pennsylvania surrounded by books (a little bit of everything) and the echoes of music (mostly hard rock/heavy metal and blues). He has recently been published in Illumen, Siren’s Call and Yellow Mama.

Twitter: @Your_screams


The blue sky
bleeds into my eyes
while I stare
into the sun
waiting for the inevitable.
The blue sky
covers me like paint
until I can’t breathe.
I wanted this,
the cloudless sea overhead,
I prayed for serenity,
baptism in the cerulean dream.
At the behest
of the blue sky
I have worshipped
its perfect nature,
my endorsement given
in willing supplication.
But only now do I feel
the rising pangs of my love,
the sun’s rays lash at me
on order of the blue sky,
When the day ends
and the blue sky retreats,
I will rise from my knees
and beg forgiveness
of the night
knowing full well
it’s black heart
will send me away
to await the new dawn
and the return
of the blue sky.


They hid in the trees
and waited,
sometimes for days,
watching us float through
our daily lives,
locked in our own egos,
too busy to sense
their eyes,
or feel their
faint, but sulfurous breath.
When they took us,
one by one,
it was a night attack
so bloody
the ground soaked to red.
I and some others survived
because we had
welcomed them
to our overpopulated world
to cull the herd.
Now it’s so quiet
and peaceful
we can hear
every move they make
while huddled together
for protection
as they hunt us down.


I checked the news
for your name
knowing it was
the only contact
we would have
but they haven’t caught you yet.
The skin you left behind
after our last time together
warms me at night
when the cold
terrifies me.
Are you back in the desert?
That’s what I imagine,
back home
where it all started
under the rocks,
resting, breathing,
waiting for another
like me
to find you
and allow you to feed.
I have to go,
my machine is beeping
which will bring the nurses.
The dressings on my body
need changed.
I’m bleeding a lot again.
They’ll make me
take your skin off
but I don’t want to.
It’s all I have left
since you took mine.
It’s all I have left
of you.