;

Continuation

The pain is persistent.
My brain swelling heavy, dull.
Digging trenches
several months long.
Tightening the bolts where
artery eats the heart.
Tremor. Tremble.
My left arm rotting off. 

Wasting. I guess you can only 
do so much on your own.

I hear only the echoes of warm light.

Push me in front of a train.
By the door’s crease,
the last sliver of breath,
shut it closed.

I want something, anything.
Cut me quick.
A gash to fester with
life or death.
I want just one
I need only one