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