Romantically speaking,
I am not very romantic at all.

My spine curves and
sprouts forth a
humerus that holds
to a radius and an ulna
with metacarpal bones
dangling
downward
reaching for something to
anchor themselves to.

I am not very romantic at all,
it's just that my bones have flourished
curling around you.

My wrist is laid
down
alone
upon a table
large well formed feet
visible beneath the glass sheet
that's chilling to the skin
blood recedes from distant hand
until it gathers in a puddle
between the ulna and radius
a bruise of vague percussions
spreading up my little metacarpal
as it smashes vainly upon resistant stable
trying to steady the dancing toes beneath
a barrier so clear
the dust from last week's walk from work
are seen around a sole
that won't decide
where it wants to go
or if going can be defined
while blurred blue engulfs the cloudy witness
to my pointless movements
ontop
beneath
behind
the glass table

With humility heart
Kindness jungle through stars
Pointing accommodation in distance
Revenging mind of resolution
World babies milk suffering
Eyes pouring of anger.
people of different society

sword always blood eye
swing if man betrays
if speak we create
revolting mind of past
irokos of enslavement
when shall middle fingers
equals other? creator metacarpal
future a bird in the sky.

Plead guilty
For my innocence
When I am mute
I have a bad habit
Of forgetting where I am
Map of skin
Freckle islands sinking
In a pool of sweat
Salty oceans
I have no way to cross
Bridges of arms
Crumbling in uncharted waters
Mast of spine
Scoliosis of will
Tethered ligaments of indifference
Rails made of keratin
Clinging together with
Iceberg cold hands
Tearing apart
A home built
In this cave
A hollow cavern of chest
All that is left
Climbing Incan temple steps
With leviathan limbs
Up the ribcage of my back
A tower with two windows
One doorway in
I have never found a way out
Pulling vines down
Over my ears
I don't want to hear
Music anymore
A trap door tongue
Under the floorboards of my teeth
Lips nailed in submission
Captive, it won't let me out
I have no leverage
Against myself
No femur to pry
Into an iron heart
Veins and arteries wrapping themselves
Around my humourous
Metacarpal judges
Presiding over a court of ligaments
There is no connection
Cartilage sentences, unspecified
How harsh, how long
I tell you
I am innocent
Guilt tears me apart
The gavel falls
Greeting the back of my hand
Bones break
Calcium powder
Mixing with marrow
I am innocent
I am broken
I will heal

slanderous silk sac
shaved and crushed
work of olden theways
when metacarpal tightens
look for mandible to snap
strawdawg sippin’ smoothie
******* hithemark
when love is all yousee
war is what youneed
to even keel, your crook’d beam

King!
My coronation was a trial by fire.
A heavy orchestration of pain casted upon me was my test of ascension
mechanisms of a divine imagining
that which has stretched me beyond thresholds of innocent humanity presented me another edge to my identity
sharper
Cutting deeply into my flesh, that divides like the most tender choice
yet
teaching me equally valuable lessons  
furthering my progression, in life.

The throne is uncomfortable to me.
They lament to me, constantly, that I will “grow into it”
this, abominable seat of my dubious existence here
it’s vast backrest, comprised of a fallible love
petrified skeletal appendages – arms
and various metacarpal complete with long, gnarled, and bony fingers.
It does, whenever I should take a seat, reach into my back, to give a malicious massage to my soul, yet, it does become a shield, of sorts, protecting me from the multitude of tormented souls that fall behind me.
My back
it becomes stressed
all the while I am approached by the denizen of our lower realm.

In such
I am a mastermind to the humbled classes
the discarded region of society’s social classes,
wherein the poor persists, without fruition, in attempting to escape a den of poverty,
akin to the various ways that obstreperous children may try to exit a room secured by vigilant adults
just to reach a room filled with never-ending sugar.
This realm, it is where I am directed to guide.

My crown
oh
it is cumbersome and burdensome upon my crest
heavy is this appointed ornament
to me it is a compliment to the curse
to them – it is a highly important adornment.
Unbeknownst, however, to the masses that wander under moonlight shows,
it slows my pace
akin to stepping double-time through moonlit painted snow
cold.
At times, it causes me to perceive that I am entertaining them,
a frost king
it penetrates my flesh and bones
corrupting my other sanities
now, no doubting or second guessing
hands, that gripped my head many moons prior delivering me from my greatest vessel, were immediately replaced
Excruciating!
I can recall
the unfathomable pain that saturated my newly emerged head
crowning into light that glared proudly from high above - divine!
My departure from a blessed, blood and sweat drenched ***** concluded with them crowning me.

I stand triumphant still
Moses would smile feverishly upon beholding the liars I have killed
Souls that I have saved.

She graduated the highest of class
remove my concern and the drugs would have taken her away
he could have walked away
a worker with no employer
his jobless gains
were too weak to sustain.
The child was a storm between he and the weary lover
filthy, she always thought
lack of maintenance and how the sheets wore their stains
though, he never gave up
his loyalty to his firm – begotten her diamond rings
six mouths that, gleefully, devour his sufficient gains.
lo
remove my torment!
That he could behold my struggle
lo, if I had failed to set an example he would have walked away

Oh!
My throne and crown are brutal to me
agonizing
acknowledged
appreciated
in life I will persist to possess my position gracefully
children now grow as men of learned minds
therein those gloomy alleys of sordid squalor
I serve with, merely, the shards of a broken, yet, celestial knowledge
and, I pray, the most high father will accept my offerings, from my most meagerly harvests.

Lo
most high father
my coronation was a trial defined by struggles
of survival
of the most furious fires!
I am ready!
I think.

Jonah Singleton 2024 ©️

i have always had
an unparalleled fascination
for the human body.
human anatomy to me, it seems
draws me in
like a moth to a candle.
it mesmerizes me,
to see drawings of phalanges and metacarpal bones,
all covered
like a secret lover
by smooth, knitted skin.
romeo, where art thou?
tracing pictures of the aorta and veins and arteries, i hope-
the sensual twists and turns of a capillary should fill the page.
let me bask in deltoid and trapezius muscles,
make my way to the clavicle.
let the beauty of the fragility and the strength of bodies,
divine and heaven-sent,
engross me for the decades to come:
to admire and enchant and enthral;
to hold spellbound and captivate and always intrigue me.

Etréstles was suspended in a tomb in the necropolis. There was a great quantity of accumulated air enclosed in the moldy walls, with populations of specters that moved translucent by other populations that walked inconsistent and of proto masonry, that in some resembled pink marbles on some striated slabs, letting pale rhizomes slip away, under a oblique land that was manifested meager on an unstable pedestal. Adhered to this exteriorization were Kanti and Etréstles, who, in their hydrothermal paragenesis, lay as a petro form at a great range of heat, making periodic effluvia of their Devonian geology; peering into a carbonization of the sedimentary rocks, which they attributed their attention to when remaining in the favorable climatic zones that made episodes on their hydro-thermal sediments, leading to the carbonization of the surface of the necropolis with micas and serpentines, to cool down, in the fields of the natural self-sacrificers that resisted the effect of the heat generated by the Zig Zag Universe, etching each other on pyrites and graphites. With a purpose of compactness, which increases and extends the widening of the enclosure to the emanations of the channeling that in the traces, it will be on linens that will come in the first charges of the homily from Tsambika, and then from Mount Hymetus in Athens, follow proliferating in populated hives of bees ******* in its forest, towards fragrant necropolis, in causes of the vapor of its magnificent flowers and herbs; so much so, that from the honey-paved lipoids, some spectra will emerge from being toxic, longing for the strigilae or S-curved striae (reverse or straight), copied from pagan sarcophagi.

Thousands after miles, centuries after centuries, adorning themselves in the boxes on the outer fronts of the tombs, almost as in constant Constantine-Hellenic brilliance. With their flat covers, they poured over them the devastating trisomy, whose extra diploid organism chromosomes, however from that aberration, would be parity of all beings tripled in their homologous chromosomal hereditary complement. Generating disproportions that in their execrable variation, would be destined to the patio of falling over them, in three inverted marble patios, revealing only some in their extremities, appreciating them with semi-covered figures and in relief, filling again by genetic trisomy for gentile practices to take them to Vas Auric Cristiano. Faced with such famous empyrean and reliefs, the Universe that also agreed, with greater conferred the spiral, towards the locus of the sepulcher chromosome, predicting lights on capitals in Theoskepasti, for goods that collect centuries in a hundred collected lilies, go where the imperfections, but already cut from its liliorum, in unknown metacarpal hands.

A muscle in my metacarpal twitches
A metallic smell pervades the air
I think I hear a high-pitched whining
Hairs rise on my arms and neck

Heart rate slows
Thrumming in my ears
Pores perspiring
Pupils dilating

Something’s coming…
Or someone…
(Or something wrong?)
What!

Flight or fight has me
A finger twitches and
Eyes flicker
Stay or go?

STAY!
STAND!
BALANCE STANCE!
PREVAIL!

The empires of the world collapse and unleash hegira of instigation, the dynasties become obfuscated and lost among the instigated themselves. Vernarth was still intertwined with the figures of light that were reflected in the personal back tent after the expansions and debits of faith, looking for the limbs that vanished in the exotic stubbornness of everything from now on being only his dimensional air that would continue after infinity that marks lines that freeze at the end of the Vóreios, and are scalding in the average of the Mediterranean, later when the Kassotide is the environment of Helleniká transhumating the resistances that were from the shady gap of the Seventh Cemetery of Messolonghi. This Ellipsis would mark the final epilogue of Alexander the Great who would now be in spectral form with Vernarth. They were going to face the sequence of this parapsychological ellipsis from 326 BC. In the Battle of the environment and stonework of the river that resembled spirits of sooty ignition such as Bumodos, but being the Hydaspes who managed to notice this duality of parapsychology as the serum that pretended to be divine blood, for a fortuitous exhaustion of the physicalities that crossed in true existentiality through rivers of final blood, as it would be in the Hí Emphasis to volatilize with the ethereal mixture of blood that ran through the rivers escaping from a forced destiny, which was only based on colonization of areas that would burn like Carmania or Bactriana, being now Grikos and Skalá between latitudes that would laud in regulas and helmets, collapsing on rings in how many lives of beings that could hardly bring the biosphere of expedited death or euthanasia in the Katabasis, where the decline and redemption of successive struggles would be definitively marked, to fall in the dizziness of the fumaroles of the eruptions that carry him unscathed in the psychic depositories of a messiah a going to the true Messiah, in addition to an early biological dysfunction to later be reborn in an agitated spiritual life where empires of antiquity are founded to give the first ideological falsehoods that would change the climatic atmosphere, since the Kassotide source was extinguished, quantumly uniting the An ancient period with the ipso facto moment of the sacred word that gives glorification to its roots, to understand that the heights of the Thuellai and all its genetics will bring the new vigor, lato and the prefigured that all blood that spews a dejection or a geyser, which is the homeostatic sublimated of the colossal body of the world, which resists by all its extremities, when its scriptural postulates are concluded or disallowed from flaming among the dissipated lineage of a ****, bordering on the projection of the opinion when it dies alone, the body also and a piece of that extensive mind that becomes part of the rotating mist of all that in covers the existence of a Hoplite, further away than the elegies of Saint John the Apostle, which would appear considerably real to avoid any unconscious gradation or destruction of the Hellenic patrimonial, discarding all vulnerability of beheaded frustrated genes, for whoever was a Hoplite with all that he conserves and cultivate, if you can treasure it? It would be the symbolic significance of the transient wandering in all its echoes and screams in unison through the shouting of the Kidron Valley, where the antichrist looks at the stream seeing that it had blue eyebolts, in its feverish fiery ardor on the upper metacarpal end, remaining in the opacity of the light that soaked immortals and that at the same time was a hindrance or utopia of a refutation of the dawn that never had the origin or destination of its transient sunrise. The holy complacency of the sanctity of their thoughts has the tendency to be ruined in the middle of the city of Jericho, or in an ugly situation in parallel that would bring it to those who amplify their tonnage of immanence in the face of a particle collision situation that they had alone. The target of the omega blade was instantiated in the omega storehouse.

Says Vernarth: "Because if the Anemoi extends north all humanity follows ...? because mercy rushes to where someone ponders the latch of the lazaret when whoever brings salvation cannot wait without holiness ...? Because the immaculate is multi-sacrificed with the life of an unborn if the passing of the millennia is who should do it? Why does writing travel thousands of light-years from the celestial pretenses without hesitation or stopping, bringing writings that renew the heart that sets the scene that a writer can progressively revive in the word and the body that is the essence of God ...? Because centuries pass in a second, and fewer and fewer centuries remain without being able to tell what someone omitted in any of them if the light or ink that should be stolen from the night is scarce, what the secret of her and only her could testify that a Being of Light can write with the light of its lights, as it would be then and perhaps before, fleeing and forgetting or not dare to take the fountain pen or an eyebolt, which surrounds him while the figures from the unforeseen they inspire the being who writes ...? "

Everything that glittered in Vernarth's Epiphany and Linkage shop was summed up in the finesse of the memorial, traversing the neuronal Katabasis of the emotional subclavian, exterminating emotions that carried no greater weight than an artery capable of penetrating all its bearing, where the light shone. adds as in a cruet on the table of Apollo, and no more than writing that should do it for him, since it is exempt from having emotional extremities that replace everything that comes from the darkness opposite to the Light, being written with calamus and with living blood.

Gather yourself,
And I’ll pour you a glass of my antidote
Under your shell the maggots collect,
Recollect your demeanor and your best memories, we all need reminders that we don’t just have enemies,
Release
Find the keys to the chest,
And let your chest beat be a palpitating reminder of the rest
Take a gander at my remaining treasures
Fleeting and weathered
Unlike your rising regret
You’re focused on the things you need to forget
Clutch my clenching flesh-cloaked metacarpal bones
Before my rationality and my senses go, or at least before your will to live releases so