Dying
in a Dream
I lie on the simmering asphalt.
Warm vitality drips unsympathetically
From this mortal piercing
And coldness lazily oozes over me
Like the slow trickle of melting ice.
I lie, the observer of a still-life portrait;
Of houses, of hills, of sunset…
I can see them all,
Falling further and further
Beyond my grasp; becoming unfocused.
I lie and wait for the grim finale…
When existence fades to black.
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