Empty hands…

Starting over…

The car is crashed,

the chips are down.

I look around

and see no survivors,

a smoking gun,

and a dangling toe tag

with my name written in red,

the killer and the killed,

the leader and the misled,

a blood blurred vision

of memories swiftly fading,

stars bursting

into darkness,

silence, peace.

I sleep

just below the surface of responsiveness

waiting for the wounds to heal,

the smoke to clear,

the taste of gun powder

to dissolve.

Slowly a thirst

for sanity,

a will to live,

to move beyond the nightmare

tears

falling on the table

smashing, crashing

like the windshield,

like the handful of chips

that put me all in,

like my skull against the bullet…

and there is nothing here now,

nothing left of me

but skin and sin and

a past to learn or burn from,

and a conversation I am sick of having with myself.

I sit now

nude

staring at my

empty hands

and I realize

that I am starting over.

 

(2010)