A King’s Kingdom – John Maurer

King of my own kingdom, picking out the ring that I kiss
Dark architect of castle sun; a marble-mover moving around
On a marble steed, eternally slicing its cropped trot

Suffocating lung, blinding eye, heart that beat itself silent
Drown these in the oily vinegar along with:
My memories of childhood friends drowning

I repurposed my skull into a pinhole camera
I was only obligated to throw away my brain
At night, alone, I develop myself in a dark room

 

About the Author: John Maurer is a 22-year-old writer that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between — things that aren’t boring to read, hopefully. He has been previously published at Quail Bell, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, The Scarlet Leaf Review, and The Foliate Oak.

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