My neighbor recalls his past life.
In it, he drank warm whiskey in the late evening,
While staring into space.
His white chandelier flinched, suspended high,
He didn't see it as a threat.

In a fraction of a second,
His cerebrum was crowned by thorns,
His chest puffed of poison, his body was raised,
And his iris was replaced with angelic light,
Until he was relinquished.
Minutes later he vanished.

His shadow remains on the wall for everyone to see
That he was claimed.

Today he said he admired the spirit of me,
And reassured me that I would not experience
The same, now or in any other life,
Thank goodness.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/30/10
Revised 9/29/14)