I've been yearning for a future I
had around me four years ago.
I would pace, and you would
sip your coffee.
We were both falling-in. Before
our falling out.
A black hole, a sentinel, shoots
through the space, above the
apartment.
Time bends. Twenty-different, endings.
Cursed to see them all. Granted,
as a gift.
The path leads, not back, but away from
the car door. A martyr for secrets, each time
that I'd shut it.
Over a short hill, I caught my breath.
Fixed my eyes on a snake, and
inhaled the devil.
(If love is for losers, I'm
damn-sick, and winning. A laugh-
it-off stab wound, for each
failed beginning.
The noise in my back just can't
drown out my brain. The one-
volume-voice lies, and insists
I'm sane.)
But I burped up a bottle, betting to
blur my vision. And, I burned down the house,
trying to warm-up my hands.
I try not to look
back-past-two, or
further than eight.
I remember "what comes after four?"
I'm just hoping to forget.