45

45
By: James Dubeau

Sitting here
Gazing across the room
Watching the flames
Lick and curl
Slowly melting ice
Condensation dripping
Into my scotch
Aged from ‘45
Days of the past
Roll on through
Checked and marred
With tones of sepia
As an old-time movie
All of the errors
All of the mistakes
Everything done wrong
To lead me down
This path to today
When I turned 45
Violins play
Somewhere behind me
Scratched melodies
Waltzes and suites
Have soothed the souls
Since ages past
Needle upon vinyl
Spinning 45
In my lap
Wood and metal
Rests unmoving
Heavy and steadfast
Cold to touch
Reluctantly raised
To my temple
Cleansing away
All the demons
Haunting my soul
In a flash
Of my .45

Black Horizon

Black Horizon
By: James Dubeau

White foam breaks
Impenetrable darkness
Of incoming waves
Whose blackness extends
An incalculable distance
Reaching towards
Becoming
The starless sky
Water laps
Upon my toes
Slowly washing away
Footprints
Removing all trace
Of my existence
From this earth
Each step
Brings the invisible horizon
Closer
Water washes past
Cleansing my soul
Enveloping me
Devouring me
For once I have been baptized
By the depths
I shall scream out
And become
No more

The End

The End
By: James Dubeau

Heavy weight
In my hand
Cold steel
Against my flesh
My finger traces
Protruding metal
Feeling the curves
The grace
Few last wisps
Curl round my head
Putting a haze
On dim light
Filtering through
Closed blinds
Empty bottle
Stands alone
Upon my desk
The last man standing
In a long line of
Dedicated
Loyal
Soldiers
Cool metal
Presses against
My temple
In a flash
All is
Dark

How Much Blood

How Much Blood
By: James Dubeau

How much blood
Can my heart beat out
When I slit my wrists

Could it spray
Paint the walls deep red
Squirt my life away

Will it seep
Soak my bed scarlet
As I bleed on out

Knife in hand
Soon I will find out
When the blade cuts deep

How Does It Feel

How Does It Feel
By James Dubeau

How does it feel
When the pain goes away
Is there an absence
A void which can never be filled
Or is the emptiness replaced
With fear, desperation, insecurity
Or just loneliness
How does it feel
To be able to fall asleep when tired
Not having to wait for exhaustion
Or to lay in the fetal position
Shivering and weeping under the blankets
Without sweat soaking nightmares
How does it feel
With cold hard steel pressed against skin
Held tight to the temple
Rattling metal in shaky hands
Will the heart race beyond control
Or just flutter on as normal
How does it feel
When the bullet pierces flesh
Smashing bone and brain
Leaving shards imbedded in the wall
Dripping with fresh wet gore
How does it feel

Death Works Overtime

Late at night
Crusing the streets
Beer in one hand
Wheel in the other
With a smoke spilling ash
I take the corner
A little closer than not
Wheels over the curb
Trashcans lay in waste behind
Death you hear me?
I should over the music
Undone seatbelt dangling along
I don’t care any more
Everything has been taken
Nothing remains
Just a disgrace
Not needed any more
Death you hear me?
You better be working overtime
By the end of tonight
My soul will be ripe
For you to reap
Off this earth