I.
I’ve been up,
and I’ve been down.
II.
I’ve been rich,
and leaned out.
III.
I’ve been dead,
and yet still breathed.
IV.
And in the end,
I just repeat the beginning.
Death
It Won’t Make A Sound
Rope heightens, Noose tightens Into a knot. The chair creaks, The knees quake, A sudden drop. Breath escapes, Death initiates;
December 14, 2014
