grim demons slumber in the sea by the thousands. floating about, deranged and bloated, looking like five-foot worms, cast into the bay by the great storms. the newest bodies, more plump, arms wide apart, hover a few feet above the sea floor, where grimy oxygen-starved blue mussels suck on mud.
further on, more hideous bodies, nipped and bitten by sea creatures, great and small, slowly decompose in the dank water, grey skin peeling away. here lies the underlying tissues of this physics teacher, this registered nurse, this dishwasher, all of these students.
sea lice nibble flesh, maggot mass, skin slippage, algae and blood mix and the fat slips waxy. nearby salt marshes spit up abnormal carcasses next to warted toads, bellies exposed.
yesterday, this accursed city suffered cyclone ball lightning, which was once a myth. today, it is calm throughout boston. the abandoned city burns down one final time, no witnesses. a single blister blooming, one of many to come, on the east coast. small and petty acts of omnicide.
the madness of the sea leaches each soul, feeds the complex benthos living just under the sea floor, living down the cold abyssal depths. feeds the deep.
After living in Los Angeles for many years, Jake is now back in his home city of Boston. Runs rad restaurants. Thrives in a habitat of bars, punk rock shows, and late-night adventures. His first book Poetry for the Neon Apocalypse is available on Amazon.