Poetry: "Split (A Breakdown)"

In the split womb of madness,

bubbling black

through every pore,

I feel every inch

of every mistake.

With feathers for eyebrows

sipping in stars

like milkshakes,

I make visions out of bones.

Scuttling human forms,

birthed without light,


the thick night collapsing upon itself

like great waves,

drowning the

unformed land.

Cocktails of green and white pills,

paranoia coating every tear,

the city,

the iris of the sky

holds no answers,

each nurse is an assassin

targeting every weakness.

Revealed in nightmares

stepping out of sleep

to walk the room like my shadow,

cyphering drops

with each step.

Images too unspeakable

to be accompanied by word pictures

that would make prophets blush,

spitting out their recycled

tomes on the dusty dry summer heat path

full of the ghosts of spring

David Hay is an English Teacher in the Northwest of England. He has written poetry and prose since the age of 18 when he discovered Virginia Woolf's The Waves and the poetry of John Keats. These and other artists encouraged him to seek his own poetic voice. He has currently been accepted for publication in Dreich, Abridged, Acumen, The Honest Ulsterman, The Dawntreader, Versification, The Babel Tower Notice Board, The Stone of Madness Press, The Fortnightly Review, Nine Muses Poetry, Green Ink Poetry, Dodging the Rain, The Morning Star as well as The New River Press 2020 Anthology.