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by Chad Robertson

I've exchanged hollow vows
with a pulled trigger digit.
now I wear
my bullet-ridden soul
on a broken-bent ring finger.

no longer will my mother
wait by phones
for false sincerity
from faceless men proclaiming
news she knew
she'd one day hear.
and
later, little would I know
I'd learn
that God really does exist.
from Hell I stare through
floors to find
that I am hardly missed.

my absence unnoticed
I have lost
thinking suicide my escape
but now my pain expanding,
exponentially for eternity,
when
the daily dawn rises
and I
only can die once.