there’s a gun in my pocket
heavy with the essence of
another man’s soul
still swirling in the smoky barrel
in this dark corner of this lonely
and forgotten
bar is the man who played
Thanatos and brought to
inevitable conclusion the yearnings
of a single human life
in this corner, sipping cheap
whiskey
and smoking
foreign cigarettes is a
killer with a conscience
but you’d never know it
steady hands and
unwavering eyes
greet the bartender
I order another
shot
and pat my thigh, keeping
the soul in the chamber
for just a little longer
because, really, it’s  my soul
that’s been stolen by that
gun in my pocket