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Fade

This fade is ending

A colder morning 

Hands moved in empty 

She’s in mourning 
The revel bending

 Against her trembling

A gun conceding

She’s just ambling 

A child can’t cry 

Her hands hold tight

Blood from wounds 

She can’t make right
A scream is everything 

A womb disastrous

This horror flooding

From a man she trusts
Shakes she shines

The man is aching

His shit sells shame

And is for the taking
This fade is ending

A bolder morning 

Hands not empty 

Just more deserving.

(C)2017

Chris Vaughn

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About Christopher Vaughn

Born in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1971 and moved all over the world as a military brat, my first venture into writing occurred in my heart early in childhood when I became obsessed with science fiction books by Jules Verne, Dan O Bannen, Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury. It was early elementary school when I discovered Robert Frost and his pen struck me. I was wanting to be in the worlds he painted. After several honors English classes and more obsessive reading of Madeleine L'Engle and Stephen King, I knew writing was a calling. In the 80's I was also enamored with electronic bands Depeche Mode and Front 242 and seminal bands like Skinny Puppy and Click Click which influenced my writing as well. In the 90's I was transformed when I discovered Clive Barker, he was the total package. Artist, Painter, Sculptor, Writer, Poet, Director...I became a survivalist writer. A term I coined by the nature of writing through feeling...letting go of the negative and hurt. Which if you are a poet, is what you do. It's not all just about creative churning. It's letting out what you feel inside of you. I continue to write poetry, short stories and lyrics to survive...

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