Pillows and Smoke
I lay my head on a pillowcase full of
razor blades, and try to be still as I
dream of the soft edges in death.
The dinosaur walks into my room,
ties his noose above my elbow and
smiles his big toothy smile-
Sending me his best as the blades
cut into the back of my skull.
I won't show him how much it hurts.
How much I've been bleeding.
I've always thought of my life as a painting.
That my last thoughts
would be a sort of watermark on
this drawn-out scene; tragic and beautiful.
A landscape of gory hope.
Compelling, and seemingly insurmountable.
I think now, it's more like a muzzle flash.
Abrupt, and not at all pleasant.
Quickly fading, except for the burn.
I think that may linger forever.
The smoke will roll out like
a shot in a bad Eastwood movie,
and for a moment I'll know what
It's like to have a soul.
Until your breath pushes me past the barrel,
and I'm forgotten.
Like every other time, I've tried to leave my mark.
-James Kelley 2017
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