Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
Night falls slowly as the wind
Dies to a faint whisper.
The stars are all hidden in their blankets.
Night falls gently as a leaf
From a tree to the ground.

Abe dresses his arm, his sword, preparing
For a fix that heals nothing.
Alone, he takes a sip of water from a cup.
Outside, no one wonders where he is.
Abe caresses his soul, his burden, thinking
That life is only for the next score.

A ceiling fan spins over Abe's head; propelled
By Invisible electricity, intangible energy.
Awake, asleep, numb, indifferent, and
Always and never in pain when the needle goes in.
Attention to detail suits Abe.
Protection against God has always worried Abe.
A ceiling fan whirls overhead like a rotating
Scythe - the hammer falls for everyone at some time.

Abe's flip phone sits on the window sill,
Reflecting pale yellow sunlight up onto the ceiling.
Abe looks up and thinks they are angel wings.
He thinks, Where is God in all of this?
Instead of crying for help, he can only take the white
Cold wash that starts to build at his heart, then outward.
Abe's junk kit sits behind him like a suicide note,
Open for all the world to see.

His eyes flutter for the kitchen sink.
He heard a rumor somewhere it was good to drink water,
That it was good to breathe heavily in times of dire need.
The speed of the mind has slowed though,
As the need hangs from Abe's arm, a line of blood leaking out.
His mouth parts, closes.
He is trying to call for help.

Breath becomes so short when love leaves the body.
Abe feels his hands, his feet, his fingers, his toes
Tingle, vibrate, and then hum slowly to a still deadness.
The window is warm from the sun and
The hardwood floor Abe lays upon is cold.
Abe reaches for the window but cannot reach it.
Abe reaches for the glass but fails to touch it.

Limbs are noodle like and the spike falls out.
More blood comes and Abe smells silver.
Rain clouds careen off the tracks like a drunken train
Bound for no glory other then the fate of every man, every woman.
Death reaches out his hand and Abe
Takes it for the first and last time.
Written by
Mitchell
261
   --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems