Poem-A-Day: Day 107

No Rain

I've manufactured a reality
so bizarre
that it has completely ceased to be
anything that I remember.

But I don’t remember much,
if anything
from the things that I’ve found real,
there is nothing really.

So I stare down the scope
ready
to take the shot and blow my own brains
clear out of my memory.

And when the cool sweet
purity
caresses my lips in slow distilled disaster,
I come to sudden realizations.