walls between us by John Sweet


and in these frozen wastelands,
little gods dig little holes

you come out of this
haze of drugs slowly

buildings emerge, and streets,
and powerlines

an absence of anything real
and, even there in my bright and
shiny childhood, there were boys
and girls suffocating in
abandoned freezers

there were garages
going up in flames

and if i’m a time traveler,
at what point did i start?

in what year will i finally stop
and declare myself to be home?

the obvious truths are
usually lies

the women with scars are the ones
i can never seem to avoid

what i fear is sleep and then
what i dream of is decay

all floors are covered in water
and filth, all walls are
damp paper mache, all bookcases
are sawdust

wake up with vague thoughts
of suicide or escape

here and now are the twin spikes
that nail us to our lives
jesus christ is the punchline
to any number of unfunny jokes

it’s not salvation that i need,
and it’s not forgiveness

crawl to the water’s edge

drink your fill

you will live or die out here,
just like all of us


©2019 John Sweet




John Sweet, b. 1968 and still numbered among the living, sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) A BASTARD CHILD IN THE KINGDOM OF NIL (2018 Analog Submission Press) and BASTARD FAITH (2017 Scars Publications). All pertinent facts about his writing are buried in his life.


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