Schedule one
in confines solitary
Spin the loaded gun
in circles run; momentary.
Stains to the soul;
best dressed for unrest.
Two halves broken whole
kissed by the breath of death.
The time machine,
held lock and key,
with the chamber set to spin.
I smile and stare into the dark
awaiting my toothless grin.
By Devin M. Ott
January 6th, 2015
Advertisements
