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Prose - Till Death Do I Believe

Updated on April 14, 2012

Laying prone next to death which may or may not be my neighbor;
knowing that nothing I remember will save me; knowledge, useless knowledge, a required accompaniment to my carefully selected claret smiling with assurance as I infringe upon their right to object to the depths of my retort.

A wrinkled sheet ignored but useful in its random spread across my torso
draws the sweat from my pores as I save the planet from my presence while the restlessness of unmerciful insomnia instills a quiet uselessness
to my thoughts which I egocentrically assume will yield prose worthy of comment.

As the knowing is swallowed, whole as the last hardened cheese cracker on a plate it becomes relevant to believe in anything unproven as further observed phenomena is no more or less a sequel to a play yet to be understood by genius or idiocy whose consciousness rival one another in their need to be loved by a suffering mother.

The bullet crosses the boundary between dream and threat into an assumed
position of relevance in every step I take towards a repetitive life filtered only
by the need for a decision; unhappy with or without; each the same yet
held aloft by the delusion of a chance encounter with a heart I will use but never protect.

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    • The Suburban Poet profile image
      Author

      The Suburban Poet 5 years ago from Austin, Texas

      Thank you Sally... life and decision becomes difficult as we age....

    • Truckstop Sally profile image

      Truckstop Sally 5 years ago

      The bullet crosses the boundary between dream and threat into an assumed position of relevance in every step I take . . . Very powerful, my friend!