Awaiting Ancient Assassins

It was only a matter of Time.

Circumstance had already written the scene.

Despair had met Death in a slow lover's dance

And the music was a slow and sappy

Teenage love song.

As they moved past the punchbowl table,

Set up in the corner of my mind,

I contemplated the final days now behind me.

Luck can only last so long

Before expelling itself with Stagnation

Having been tragically sustained

By it's own little blue pill.

I was resigned to the fate before me

And unconcerned about the life behind me.

It's hard to build passion

For the barely adequate.

As the Killers stood outside my door

Taking the last slow drags

On French cigarettes; swirling smoke

Mocking the dance of Death and Despair,

Still lost in each other's eyes,

I kept my thoughts closed

And emotionally unavailable

To the lonely beats of my heart.

I refused to hear the world

Which had shrunk to a single room.

That cold metallic snap of the bullet

Played chamber music conducted by War

The gentle Kiss of steel lips

Made the wind Whisper

"Do it, damn it. Do it!"

Never smelling the Cordite.