Death is always there

Death is knocking back

drinks with

Hemingway

lurking around

shiny switchblade corners

slippery jackknife turns

rotting on the side

of the road

stalking like a jilted lover

stillborn under

harsh florescent lights

the topic of

a 3am phone call

pictures in the hallway

brain cells after a

good long binge

a cop

a crook

a clerk

a gun

a stone

a bomb

a bone

a dream

a revelation

a destination

a culmination

of every thing

and no thing

the bitter understanding

that whichever path

we choose

will lead us

to the same

kind of

nothing

 

©peter_hammarberg 10/2008
Originally published in Death Chant Macabre #1 2008

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