Poem by John Patrick Robbins

 

Last Line Of A Fractured Thought

There wasn’t anything special about the day you called.

Aside from the fact that a ghost that had haunted me for years.
Was now a reality.

And that person I knew no longer existed.
It’s strange how we build a dream from a nightmare.

Bleed pain into this bullshit delusion we call love.

I am over the past.
It just seems that my past was far from over me.

I do not concern myself with a rearview mirror.
For I know my direction clearly.

I hung up on her mid sentence.
I had far too many of my own demons to concern myself with hers.

Never revisit the minds cemetery.

Let it be over before you bury yourself with guilt.

I pen my final chapter when I choose.

 

John Patrick Robbins is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review, Under The Bleachers and Drinkers Only. He is also the author of Sex Drugs & Poetry from Whiskey City Press and Once Upon A Nervous Breakdown from Soma Publishing. His work his been published in Ariel Chart, The San Pedro River Review, The Mojave River Review, Red Fez, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Punk Noir Magazine. Angry Old Man Magazine, and Blognostics. His work is always unfiltered.

Bill Wolak has just published his fifteenth book of poetry entitled The Nakedness Defense with Ekstasis Editions. His collages have appeared recently in Naked in New Hope 2018, The 2019 Seattle Erotic Art Festival, Poetic Illusion, The Riverside Gallery, Hackensack, NJ, the 2019 Dirty Show in Detroit, 2018 The Rochester Erotic Arts Festival, and The 2018 Montreal Erotic Art Festival.

 

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