By Wes Civilz
Featured Art by Rachel Hall

Today will be a paradise if I 
Can manage to control the many hells 
I’m made of. If I misidentify 
The buzzers, flashing lights and warning bells 
Haphazardly erupting here and there 
Inside my skull, my soil, my sin, my sex, 
I’ll pay the price—which means that everywhere 
I go I’ll be nowhere, a circumflex                              
Over myself. Not quick, just dead. No good, 
Just bad. No song not noise. All kisses stone 
And any kindnesses misunderstood 
As counterfeit. All indicators show 
     Too much vibration in the system now—
     Reach up and flip the switch and shut it down. 

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Wes Civilz lives next to a dusty cactus in Tucson, Arizona. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in journals such as Ploughshares, The North American Review, and New Ohio Review. He posts writing-oriented videos on Instagram under the handle @wes_civilz.