Wayne Russell

Disposable Heart

by Wayne Russell

I always knew that

she was never there,

it was like a vision that

imploded, it rained for

a week after she left.

Yet, if the walls would

only vouch for me,

echoing my innermost

fears echo in my defense.

Naked, like an apparition

fading, the single rose in

a jade vase, mysterious in

slow daily unravel.

The strings of this broken

marionette heart, cardboard

feelings, ready for disposal.

Implosion

by Wayne Russell

Have you given up

hope on living a happy

life, a normal one?

Nothing seems to

work out right and

so, you start plotting—

the hands of time are

ticking and no one really

cares, Babylon is pending,

there's an Apocalypse at

dawn, we made it through

the solar eclipse but wait!

Have you given up

hope, on living a happy

life, a normal one?

Define normal, it isn't you,

and it damn sure isn't me,

falling off the grid, you told

me that you envisioned that

possibility in a dream. That's

a great way to buzzer off out

of town, out of society, one

last hurrah, a middle finger

salute, goodbye.

Skeeter & Elmer

by Wayne Russell

Out the window I stare,

birds singing and skies

are blue.

So much older now, my

thoughts revert back to

that old widow lady—

she used to live in a mobile

home with her alcoholic

husband named Albert—

everyone called him Skeeter

because he could suck down

the whiskey like no one's business—

like a mosquito sucking blood

from the fatty flesh of a thigh.

Elmer hated Skeeter, but missed

him dearly when he passed away

from the demon drink; he was 70—

but everyone thought that he was

95, WWII had aged him terribly,

and the drinking, smoking, and

gambling sure didn't help.

Wayne Russell is the author of the poetry book 2020's Where Angels Fear via Guerilla Genius Press, available for purchase on Amazon; his second book, Splinter of the Moon, published by Silver Bow Publishing, has just been released and also can be found at Amazon in both Kindle and paperback edition.