The tick of a clock that's been behind since it's purchase,
echoes in an empty hall that's surrounded by hollow rooms.
Each second reminds me to sip my poison and cry more,
write more about the tragedy that wrecked my nerve system
- without any physical damage being deposited.
The whine of a dog tied up across the street at a dirty park,
choking on the noose that binds it to a rusty, vomit covered bench.
As miserable as I am, he howls for the return of his owner;
who's more or less dead from a heroine induced overdose.
The rumble of a train as it roars above my decaying apartment,
vibrates the blackening floor my scarred feet impatiently tap on.
My cigaret withers away, resting comfortably on mybottom lip...
bludgeoned by forty hour weeks and weekends at the court house
-- begging a judge and jury to give me a second chance!
The cold sting of the revolver as I spin it's chamber intently,
sounding like the wheel of fortune right before someone loses.
Now is judgement day, do I die or live to struggle some more?
I inhale the last of my Marlboro then plead for heavens gates.
The click of the hammer as nothing spews out the barrel,
sends shivers down my aching spine- I live to drag another day.
I free fall onto my mattress, staring thoughtlessly across the street
at that dog as it seems to stare right back at me.
The heat of humidity as I untie the leash, as we walk home,
or at least to the air conditioned dungeon that I myself reside in.
He licks the salt off my hand, gagging from the taste of nicotine,
we settle down together, planning our next journey on Earth...
-- A broken man and his only friend.
