Sunday, November 1, 2015

code blue

pitter-patter
drip-drop
listening to the rain like listening to his heartbeat;
uneven but still alive.
I didn't know his head ached or his bones ached 
but I knew his eyes were red,
and empty glass bottles cut his fingers every once in a while.

pitter-patter
drip-drop
arms tired like his eyes
and his knuckles swollen blue,
Mother Nature cried for him
and he cried for him too;
alone and eyes still red, 
he drank from the glass bottles
and to the sky he went.

pitter-patter,
drip-drop.

the sounds of tears
her tears
their tears
all falling for him;
the glass bottles empty
and a bullet to his throat,
a cut finger and a simple note:
"my bones, 
my heart, 
they ached too much,
I love you, I'm sorry
I lost my earthly crutch"

pitter-patter

drip-drop.

a flat line and a muted buzz,
code blue.



time of death: twelve fourty two. 



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