By Riley Lopez
“All is fair in love & war,”
For war is trite and love, a bore.
We weary soldiers press on through the storm.
Our flesh is wounded.
Our hearts are worn.
The Irishman told us not to give all the heart,
But freely we give it and thus, fall apart.
We make no treaties;
We employ no diplomacy.
I get lost in brown eyes; they are all that I see.
No guns salute the death of love.
There is no salvation with God above.
You scent assaults my senses, even when you’re not here.
Love rapes and pillages; love fosters fear.
For love, our deepest essence bends,
But I know that this location
Is not where my story ends.
All this love inside my chest,
Though sitting now, unexpressed,
Will one day win this weary war
And maybe then I will know what I’m fighting for.
Love is patient and love is kind and
Love burns cities and love scars time.
Though my limbs are severed,
Though my heart is torn,
All is still fair in love & war.
“Bellum de Depression”
By Mitchell Oliver
Skull spliced open
With hammer and wedge.
Sterile instruments cut away
Thick, bleeding muscle
Exposing the raw organ
To bodiless demons.
Glistening, black, molten tar
Envelops the entire brain,
No ability to perceive.
Each attempt to reject
Stinking, corrupting poison
Stews the tar-brain mixture
Like a fork through blood pudding.
Deep torn crevasses remain open
And fill with infectious black tar;
Starved, ink-colored leeches
Sludge up through dirt,
Entering skin through feet,
Slowly overtaking from bottom-up.
Brainless things latch cranial folds,
Feed on motivation,
And facilitate transformation.
Transformation into a thing
Driven by blinding darkness
And life-sucking parasites.
Self-destructive being drowning,
Padding along a continuum of life,
Deprived of sustenance and thought
Finding no reason, no passion.
Finding nothing, except a way out.
Creeping down to blotted depths
On an eternal, spiral staircase
With rungs of black tar
And steps of ink leeches.