Poems,  Works

Waiting for the End

And here I stand
Open Hand
The heavens bleed on my palm

I wait

The burn I sweat
Life verified by this heat
My mind seared with opiate memories
I pace

Embittered, waiting for death
Stalling till my last breath
Epicurean termination, my fingertips tingle
The void nears
I halt

Place my hat on the wicker chair
Do you have a dime to spare
One last cup of coffee is all my care
Let the ashen sip singe my tongue
I spit

Because I like to.


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