Brian Rosenberger

by Horror Sleaze Trash on February 16, 2012

Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is the author of As the Worm Turns and three poetry collections.

Renaissance Man

The washing wenches specialize

in crowd humiliation,

some of it well deserved.

When was chain mail and sneakers

or scabbards and acne

ever proper attire for a knight?

Forget the hand carved dragons at thirty bucks a pop,

the jousting tournament, and the fake elf ears,

he’s only here for a turkey drumstick

and the cleavage.

Perfect

Her pussy smells like a ‘70s comic book.

He enters, not the first, nor the last, victim

the infinite abyss.

He falls willingly.

The Intoxicant

It’s like a cocoon

warm, like blankets on a bleak December day

a protective embrace

bury yourself

another drink to enhance or dull the blade

as needed

everything seems more real, or less

reality, a comfortable distance away

and you, the conscientious observer

the bottle makes it bearable

it’s home

and if you’re a resident

having crossed the welcome mat

this poem is for you, my beauty,

my vulnerable friend

because you understand the pull

irresistible

my little moth

courting the flame

again

and

again

and

again

and sure you will burn

but don’t we all

in the end

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