gun. a shiny .45s gun, running through my fingers
never once in my life, or even if my dreams;
that i’ve imagined of myself holding it,
“Shoot. To my temple.”
my mind, and life’s never been easy;
as so my death
she held up my chin, and whispered.
“Stop. The doctors are coming for you,
Okay?”


and everything becomes crazy and hazy again.