The improbability of changehit him in the gutwith the impact of a bullet. He stirred his coffee carefully.looked at it,poured it into the sink. Never again will hefool himself into believing.
It’s a blind night that speaks to you-let it spill under your heel.
Like a magnifying glassagainst the dark suntraining violence and viceon a tiny speck of arm. So the body in its minutepart experience the painand horror of murder,torture and abuse. To say: this is real, and real;to say: this is not real, not real. But the seed has been sownso it will grow to bearits terrifying …
When the waiting endsthe hours sigh with regretdrop one by one,retired soldiers of forgotten campaigns. It’s no longer possibleto buy you flowers or go for a walk. Let’s storm the edifices of tomorrow,fill them with cries of joy and terror.
Two castles, two heartsand two empty seats-the feast’s not begun yet:the host’s out hunting fleas. Two castles, two storiesand a corpse at the gate-the guests, all fallen quiet,and the tablecloth’s turned red. Two castles, two lives:one spent, one unlived-God of the Last Chancereaching up his sleeve.