IV POEMS by B. F. Jones

Punk Noir Magazine


Urban phantoms

The city in my mind 
is disquieting and dark 
a shade of blood maroon
that turns my echoing footsteps

into a fearful cavalcade.

All streets are murderous corners 
all roads lead to nowhere
and hope clings to trees
that have long ceased to grow. 

I’m a dead man walking
following the sinuation
of a seamy river 
that carries the anniversaries of 
unexplained deaths, 
the remains of 
unclaimed bodies 
and unloved souls.



The wood whinges 
before it cracks
water comes in fast.
Screams of terror 
rise into the darkness.

She doesn’t wait 
for the boat to spill its entrails 
into the inky sea 
or for them to crack her skull.

She jumps,
recoiling at the coldness 
and the horrifying abyss 
beneath her.

She swims fast, 
away from the wreck, 
the rats, the screams, 
and the two little voices 
calling out for her.  


Bedtime routine

I lay down
in a casket-like tub
my pallid body 
listless under water.

I shave my legs 
and run my palm 
on smooth, warm limbs
and remember 
I will be 
devoured by worms.

I brush my teeth 
I floss
and spit death
all over the bathroom sink. 

How much longer. 


Last words

They ask
as they fix the electrodes
if he has any last words. 

He keeps his head down, 
his mouth shut. 

I regret nothing. 

Knuckles bruised from beatings
Blood pouring from stab wounds 
Underwear ripped from 
underaged girls 

I regret nothing. 


I regret nothing. 

He looks up and shakes his head. 

I regret


B F Jones is French and lives in the UK. She has stories and poetry in various UK and US online magazines. Her poetry chapbook, Last Orders, will be released in October 2021 and her flash fiction collection, Panic Attack, in December 2021.