Kennedy Huston Poems

The clock reads 2: 11 am
I've been up all night
trying not to sleep
once I sleep
...

The gun is slick with blood
22. black, easy
one bullet, one life, one shot
heaving in my cold hand
...

I'm sitting in a chair
my hands can only move inches
cuffed together behind my chair
my eyes down cast
...

Hands open
palms facing upwards
speaking in a language
I can not understand
...

A knife sticks through my stomach
face full of relief
someone told me no finally
blood gurgles in my throat
...

I wonder how many pills it would take
to commit suicide,
popping one after another
would you have to wait
...

It isn't in slow motion like they till you it will be
everything is unclear, blurry
you can't see the bullets
you can hear them one after another ricocheting into
...

Does a clock ever want to stop ticking
does it get tired doing the same thing every day
over and over
repeating a pattern that never stops
...

My head is pounding
anger grows
a pit in my stomach growing
filled with every emotion mixed together, love, anger, passion, rage, sadness
...

The brain cells stop moving
frozen
his lips are blue
darker than the sky
...