Second Time

In the emptiness of it all

A string quartet plays melodies

Similar to the ones that of my grandfather hummed me to sleep

I break open

Pour the coffee, skip the milk, add the sugar

Silently sipping, now lukewarm after a few minutes wait

It was raining on that December day

I was brought by ambulance to the hospital

Given injections in my legs

Still, I lay

Still, I have become

No fear, or regrets

No embarrassments, no chartered waters

Like I said, no reasons, no more

I stand tall

With my fleshy weapon strong at my side

My eyes focused on the target

Rage in my heart — no sympathy

In my shade I cannot hide

In the sun, I will fade, and surely die

With no more options

No more running, making, inhaling

Without freedom

Without eight hours fight

Without her love

Only a small instance

Of left over scraps

Of left over disease

I beg you to forgive me

For what I am about to achieve

My achievement,

Museum quality

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.08.12.21:08:31@130BklynNYC