Wess Haubrich
Aug 1, 2022

Poetry prompt № 5.



in the driver’s seat

every night…

Just like you

that frosted Dec. night

of your accident.

& that night you,

friend & brother,

devoured both barrels

of the feral, metallic

death machine.

(putting that beautiful mind through a thresher of brain matter and bone.)

Is there justice in all of creation?

Or only nihilism? Filling your lungs slowly with spiritual black tar.

Or is the buzzing of

the void


The Fate cutting the thread of life is a rabid leviathan with 1,000 heads

and fangs that do their damndest to break you;

to send you to a deeper level of hell with It.

It is a mad Deity,

blind and sadistic,

for taking you both

— who had so much more to offer

this world than I ever will or could.



Wess Haubrich

Horror, crime, noir with a distinctly southwestern tinge. Staff writer, former contributing editor; occultist; anthropologist of symbols.