Thursday, March 16, 2006


the finality, the promise of nothing more
the hopelessness, the want of relief

the bottle, half empty
the gun, half full

spinning round and round
round and round

heavy and cold, pressure on my temple
sweating but unafraid, finger resting firmly

on my fate

it's too late now
it's too late

1 comment:

TotalChaos said...

Actually, this one came too close to the truth at one time. I couldn't answer, before.