Tag Archives: longing

Pines

Posted on September 15, 2026 by John Biscello

In the beginning was the Word. And the Word grinned like a lascivious jackal, like a cruel scythe, and we were seduced. A votive placed in our niche spreading small light as Word-symbol flashed before our illuminated eyes: the darkened … Continue reading →

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Sanctum

Posted on September 11, 2026 by John Biscello

In fables of solitude and memory I have grieved softly, sounding outlets through many courses and channels carved. Every escape the way back in barred. In other words don’t confuse leaving with exits. In this room, a single-sourced cell and … Continue reading →

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Meshes of Twilight

Posted on September 10, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, as in white-hot incubi with a seductive glassy not there stare that bewitches and allures, bearing melancholy freighted with scraped knees, mirror shards, and broken nails caked and curlicued in dirt. Locked in liminal groove, she … Continue reading →

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Now Showing

Posted on September 8, 2026 by John Biscello

In the shadow-carved cinema of memory, its mortuary and altars, the gauzy feting of ghosts, alluring you with the promise of exits and second lives. Follow our unbearably light drift, they montone in surround-sound stereo, we will provide you the … Continue reading →

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Foreplay

Posted on September 7, 2026 by John Biscello

i liked her best wrapped in gloaming and told her so she smiled and said i needed better metaphors or lesser ones if i hoped to undress her where silence mattered most.

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Lush Life

Posted on September 7, 2026 by John Biscello

Conundrum to my common ache and feted fevers, place me under your tongue’s secrets for safekeeping, and the cherished prospect of going down like hard candy in a throat closing to darken the rent of rapture from lush.

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Domain

Posted on September 7, 2026 by John Biscello

Her body, a puzzling slate and feral dominion suspended erringly between there and not, and I, tonal witness to the intimacy of her absence, function by rounded turns at a loss for words– Silence, the lasting grammar of ruins and … Continue reading →

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Unsaid

Posted on September 6, 2026 by John Biscello

Waxing blankly, to soothe and mollify, her hand (nails polished electric blue) gagged my mouth (O-shaped in ache) with a hint of phrase, rouge to the touch, and blatantly sheer in its umentionables.

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Classified Section

Posted on September 6, 2026 by John Biscello

In this season of longing, the pluralized itch and wraith of you and I, coursing parallel tracks to cross imaginary lines where distance mounts the spreading horizon.

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Locomotive

Posted on December 15, 2025 by John Biscello

   You didn’t dream her, you who are slowly climbing aboard a locomotive, being watched, so you feel, by whom? The needling press and burn of eyes on your back, itchy hot collar, you scratch, you cough, you take a … Continue reading →

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