WINDOWS ON THE WORLD
EGGS BENEDICT DOWN MY SHIRT
AND A SLIVER OF RED TAINTS MY STARCHED COLLAR.
A MAN WITH A CRIMSON MASK
WHISPERS ‘I LOVE YOU’S
INTO A PHONE THAT’S ALREADY DEAD.
IT’S GETTING HARD TO SEE
ACRID SMOKE STEALS MY BREATH
I’M COUGHING HARD,
I’M COUGHING UP BLOOD.
AS THE HEAT INTENSIFIES
I CRAWL SLOWLY TO THE WINDOW.
OBJECTS DROPPING THROUGH THE SKY
LIKE CHARRED BOWLING PINS
HURTLING DOWN AN ENDLESS GULLEY.
NO NOISE
JUST A HOLLOW DIGNITY.
I CUT MY ARM ON THE GLASS AS IT SHATTERS
A FINAL SCARLET REMEMBRANCE.
BRITTLE AND BROKEN
WITH NO GOD TO PRAY TO
I SOFTLY SING RYAN ADAMS,
ECHOEING ‘I’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU NEW YORK’
AS THE FLAMES LICK ME.
ONE FINAL JOLT OF INTENSE PAIN
AS I STEP INTO THE BLUE.