There is nothing quite like the feel of fresh blood
Dripping down the jowls of a greasy face
Backlit shadows dancing from peat moss burning
Night; dark night looms so silently loud
When the rushing rivers of your blood
Roar; drowning out the unspoken pitch
Life has a way of becoming fever bright
Right when that flame hits its pinnacle
What do we call that squirming union?
When fear, and excitement, kiss and blend?
What happens when our shadows stop following?
And began to meld over us like a twilight mantle
How quickly…so damn sudden…silence proceeds
Justin Ratcliff is a new emerging poet, who was cast into the depths of himself during the Covid-19 outbreak. Born, raised, and still preceding in South Central Alaska. From a very early age he had found a haven in his local library. Each new book was a new world in which to escape the harsh realities of life’s bitter brew. Draws much of his inspirations from psychology, philosophy, theology, nature, and dark fantasy.