Thursday, November 22, 2012


He was wondering what day it was.
Not that it mattered.
In fact, he didn't give a damn!
His pants, blood-splattered,
gave evidence he was on the lam.
From now on it only matters what he does.

If he is not careful, the jig is up.
He could just stay put
wash his pants
grow out his beard
cut his hair
or buy a ski mask.

Down below the bark of a pup
indicated there were others in this hut.
Annoyingly, they erupted into shouts and rants.
So, disturbed, he got up and seared
some bacon and eggs and sat in the chair
to decide how he could pull off this task.

Escape or not?
What even happened last night
or was it yesterday morning?
He brewed some coffee in the pot
and tried in his mind to set things right.
Is there some sad soul out there now mourning?

Yes, he would buy the ski mask.
It was Winter, wasn't it?
So he got up and dressed
forgetting all the rest
and headed for the door.
Suddenly it caved in
and he was thrown to the floor
before he knew what to ask
but yelling, "What the shit?".

He was in cuffs.
He saw an opportunity to escape
and took it, getting past the toughs
and the dame taking notes
he was through the door
and out of this scrape
when suddenly the breath was slammed out of him and he fell to the floor.
Even though his brain signalled his feet to keep on going
he could not and lay on the floor, a warm liquid feeling coming over him
and he seemed to be losing contact with the world and the hut
and his undrunk coffee.  Look, it was snowing!
Then it got darker and darker and
he knew he was on the ropes.
He felt at peace.

Peace at last.  Was it always so easy to get?
Just kill a man and wait?

mindbringer, 22 November 2012