I blink as I lay dead

For a moment the storm is calm

the cacaphonous instruments have been tuned

the chaos in my head has settled

deliberately

because my hand held that gun

my finger pulled that trigger

And yet...

I stir, alive

my heart pumps still more blood

red ink stays inside of the lines

that vitality begs for an effort and I must oblige

because it provides a motivation

why I should stay alive

my blood tells stories

my skin oozes memory

and I breathe tragedy

but, indeed, I breathe