A Broken Record

Amid this infernality you are eternal, my dear, and I fear I will always love you. Candles can be used for luminescence and for arson, and I may be burned alive inside this strange illumination. – © Sam Hunt, 2018

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Hold up the mirror as we die together, flying to the sun with melting wings.   “Aren’t we beautiful?” you say, for something shines inside this horror show; maybe just our eyes when we say “I love you” as we shovel in the snow, digging our own graves. – © Sam Hunt, 2018

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Twenty Twenty

She told me “it could be ten days, it could be ten years.” Eight tenths of a decade have passed since I promised I’d wait, and the tears shed and blood bled have stained like fate on pleasant memories. Only two more years await. – © Sam Hunt, 2018

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God is cold sweat. God is dumb luck. God is the rush of regret from a loveless fuck. – © Sam Hunt, 2018

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We Could Be Worse

“Quit the noise and write a symphony. My sympathy is finite and you might do better to radiate melody.”   Forgive me if it grates but we can’t all be happy. Never mind symphonies, I can barely compose myself. I only decompose. It’s hard to sing about smelling the roses when all I can picture […]

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