Thirteen Stories of the End

I

Rising, rising

whether within a porcelain tub,

stream,

or fighting against

the crashing waves;

Water is all the same

unforgiving,

and without mercy

as it climbs above my nose

and is a thief to the oxygen

within my lungs.

 

II

As a dragon is

the smoke fills my lungs

takes place of the oxygen within my veins

liquid fire percolating through the pores of my skin

heat unimaginable

engulfs my body,

and turns even my soul

to flame.

 

III

And once existing

becomes more painful

than the simple

intake of oxygen

and once the swords and spears

become too much for your scarred body

to bear

you realize

life is wasted on the living

so why be living,

when you could be dead?

 

IV

The simple realization

that life is not eternal

is when your bones begin to creak

and your joints initiate their rusting

as one day, soon perhaps

sleep will come,

and never flee.

 

V

The story of revenge

an addiction,

or simply a soul filled with hate

is when the gun is aimed to kill

the dagger resting at the heart

or the hands like ropes

wrapped around the throat,

as it is said,

hurt people hurt people

Thus,

hate is simply,

a never-ending cycle.

 

VI

Blindsided

the physics of

metallic impact

cannot give you the equation

of the flash of light,

memories of the past

or even

what lies beyond

death’s dark door

when glass shatters,

as surviving hearts do the same.

 

VII

Survival of the fittest

in its purest form

There is no team

There is no “we”

There is only bullets in the dirt

or in the skull of the man beside you

not only are there bullets

screaming past your ears

but there are mines

there are bombs

There is

no hope

of survival.

 

VIII

When your body destroys you

from the inside out

as if an evil resides inside you

You wonder as

clumps of your hair

wash down the shower drain

and all the pumps hook into your skin

Is this the life I was meant to live?

 

IX

You've never felt

more alive

when every hair is standing on end

and every cell is exploding with energy

Who knew

energy could be paralyzing

as the puissance subsides

and your veins are left

stagnant.

 

X

The lack of oxygen:

Enough to bring

even a hero to his knees

It’s what our bodies teem with

and what cascades down

to our very fingertips

Without it,

even the strongest

meet disaster.

 

XI

Aconite

as my throat begins to burn

there is an agony beneath my skin

which I cannot reach

integument flayed,

My limbs become flaccid

sycope, sycope,

They say you float in and out

of consciousness

but this feels more like

being slammed between

the states of awake

and not.

 

XII

With sunken eyes

and a rapid heartbeat;

They say our bodies are sixty percent water

but my percentage is sinking,

Sinking,

Sinking,

Sadness:

An emotion I can no longer express

for even tears

would be water wasted.

 

XIII

After the shivering has ceased

memories take wing

soaring from my mind

out into the frigid cyclone

which is pressing me against

this frozen ground;

Just before

the end draws near

I smile at its warmth

and welcome the conclusion

to this life,

as well as the beginning

of another.