Thinking About Death Again

If I were to speak it it'd be an anemic, woozy, and weak sounding voice. Though I don't mean it to mean intentional blood letting or suicide. What I mean is, because death's inevitable, there is a certain amount of times we will do anything- bleeding is one of those things that could be measured.

death,
my death,
anyone’s death,
is always sudden,
soon, it’s immediate,
how much more will I
bleed, ? can it already be
contained in a silo some
where, ? maybe in another
universe with that perfect
person I was always meant
to be with— she’s drinking it.

(There’s
only so
much
blood
to be
bled
before
I’m dead.)
It’s set.
This is
rhetorical,
horrible, eh,
whatever,
I don’t feel like
being clever

The sound of a basketball
dribbled
on carpet

The End

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