You smile and we arise, we crash, and I die thousand deaths again and again.
Those missing fingers are not holding him back from pulling the trigger, nor has the demon on his chest stopped laughing.
He wrote a crime novel, but failed to notice, that she was acting it out diligently.
My wife keeps calling me every day, thought I don’t know how she managed to be buried with her phone.
I’ve been telling my ridiculously superstitious cleaning lady, that wearing garlic necklaces and crucifixes never stopped me from eating, when I was hungry.
The brightness of the exploding rescue shuttle outshines the red gleaming oxygen display on my arm, outshines the light of the dawning earth.
Our Rottweilers never complain about my french cooking, not like my sorely missed husband and his skinny lover.