by Allen Dusk
I stare at the chrome as it glistens in the light.
What the fuck has led up to this night?
I count the rounds as I load them in the chamber.
How can I ever fix all this sadness or control my anger?
I place the barrel into my mouth and savor
its awkward cold and oily flavor.
I close my eyes and pray to any God that’s listening,
will I go to hell or will all be forgiven?
I slowly inhale my final breath
and rest clenched hands against my chest.
All the while I ponder what my ears will catch as their final sound,
will it be the gunshot or the splattering of my blood upon the ground?