The Company Copper Keeps

A dark flame bites at the edge of my existence It burns cool the tips of my fingers consuming moments once held as treasures Like a broken clock, with its second hand stuck costing me time. I sit alone, next to a spent lead bullet buried in the root of an old oak tree on a day that doesn’t deserve 24 hours 12 minutes from a 6 round bender bound for a 3 am train holding a smoking barrel accompanied by an empty copper shell