Walloped

An old demon punched me
in the face as I slept -
punched me hard.

Delicate wounds ripped open

with recollection.
Blood rushed, swelling scars,
morphing my mug
to a puffer fish pout.

In the mirror,

I find myself transformed
back some twenty-seven years -
a teenager tenderly touching
ghostly stitches.


Cycling Incubus

I awoke in pain and alone vaguely recalling the recent car accident. Momentarily confusing stair railings for the bars of a hospital be...