dim lights, thick smoke, and loud, loud music.
\nbourbon heavy on my lips.
\nthe bass builds to a crescendo, covering me in dark silks.
\nhush now, the streetlight croons,
\nyour eyes are tired with night fever.
\nrain soaks the power lines.
\nlistless and slow, lurid and spectral like a shadow i am sleepwalking.
\nsleep, waking, woeful; if i leave my limbs and lungs i will crumble
\nswiftly into you.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
MARIKA BROOKS\u00a0<\/strong>is a Toronto-based writer whose interests are rooted in post-modernity. Identities in crisis, experiences and manifestations of trauma, and figures of abjection are particularly fascinating elements of her writing and research. She is currently completing her M.A. in literatures of modernity at Ryerson University. Check out her blog<\/a>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" dim lights, thick smoke, and loud, loud music. bourbon heavy on my lips. the bass builds to a crescendo, covering me in dark silks. hush now, the streetlight croons, your eyes are tired with night fever. rain soaks the power… Continue Reading
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