Past The Ether by Mackenzie Thorn

I’m doing 90 on the Illinois route 3 at 3 am
Drunk
The car shakes terribly and my cigarette dusts ashes on my lap
Nico speaks to me amidst the triangular bayonet blade wounds
The hill country devil points across the river towards the downtown skyline
it shines behind vines of climbing black factory smoke
The winged entrepreneur suggests I take the McKinley bridge home
Before it’s too late
I ignore him
And go deeper south
Into the decayed pit of cataclysmic catacombs
Where purple neon lights wave in pocket filled derelicts and capitalist rejects
Door step gargoyles remain vigilant to protect their financial well from Monsanto vampires
Buy a loosey for 50 cents to wash down that stale beer
Buy a gram for 50 dollars to forget your fears
Buy some love for a little more
I can’t remember what I drink for

Mackenzie Thorn is a St. Louis native with roots that grow deep beneath the bar rooms and cathedrals littered across his hometown. He Documents the absurd stories of the red brick black hole and the ones lost within in lt. Giving life to the silver lining that evades our desperate grasp; that is inevitably replaced with empty beds and beer empty bottles. Works featured in the badjacket zine.