ready yourself
for that knife
because in this
endeavor you
have no say and
of this you've
dreamt big dreams.
in such sorrowful
reverie the skin
slips from the
bone and in this
wasting you've
found rejoice
that now they've
left nothing of
you. a death
cinematic
in its enormity.
totalitarian
in its finality.

driving past
the solitude
of that night,
ready yourself
for what may
come forth
from the dawn
slit horizon.

the smoke fills
in quickly,
the day blurs
what the trees
have left
behind. there
is a little
pang of in
the hollow
beneath your
ribcage.

as you
dream of sun
lit memories
trembling in
the wells of
your eyes.