AMKent books

It was lights, first blurred then sharp, concise. Rain internalising signs and lampposts in its womb through pregnant outcasts tumbling down surfaces indiscriminately. It wasn’t malevolent, but it wasn’t neutral either, the forces ambitions were unknown but its consequences, established. It all rang, inside and out like a cursed bell housing a schizophrenic monk, a teaspoon pendulum caught like lightning in a glass bottle, unnerving and seemingly, unending. Crimson illuminated shards and a melting pot mist of smoke and scarlet, the glow of a flame rising from twisted metal with scuffed skin and misshapen intention like sacred geometry. Glass doesn’t melt and it hides under the nails, swelling the blood as it burrows through shock and panic. An engine with bronchitis, gravity found a way into the ethereal weight of the divine spark. Steel formed like a tragedy from Aeschylus, its deformed body read like scripture. Digital screaming, the machine wails like Prometheus feasted upon, entropy is not slow here, it’s decay is sharp devastation. Wet asphalt trails through cats eyes in the night to a fractal of biology, circuitry of both autonomies. The heart beats amongst broken marrow swirling like the littered debris in the atmosphere of our home planet, all they had and all they ever will. Orphans of the soul now, hushed betwixt the fingers of cosmic lord, mortality a brand on the flesh of a fleeting spirit. Senses slumber before jolting to a wake more defining than that with moral dressing can sustain. The life that lost the line it sat on, and the one written in pencil, erased that only the spectre of its letters exist in the eyes of those that knew it was there. Flesh remodelled, the utilitarian prowess of functionality lost to abstraction akin to this text, something coherent resides to those who know what it is.