Saturday, August 29, 2009

Your own end

All night you sit in the dark, the gun ticking at your temple.

Every goodbye is a compromise. If you could explain how you were feeling you would not need to do this. And yet your suffering is as ordinary as newsprint, and you want to pretend you are not in love with death, that you are just using her.

Not judgment after death, but a death that does not judge.


Kits said...

V interesting and conjures up images

Anonymous said...

I've heard of time-bombs ticking, but a gun ticks?

Ah, a gun ticks the way Time ticks through the universe!

Anonymous said...

Liked the last line to bits.