Saturday, March 9, 2013

Final Flurry



At the peak of existence
I was holding slurred
conversations
with an empty mattress,
empty bottle and
what you wish
was an empty gun.
But if I learned one thing
about you it was that
you needed fire
and the pirouetted exhale
of smoke from a barrel
would be the dragon
to spark your blood
into a lust of rage and faith.
My blood on the floor
and your blood in the air
would be the last snowfall
of this winter.

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