Towards the End

I turn on my cell, and I hope it’ll ring or beep or whatever saying you’ve got a new message. And I go to listen to that message hoping it’s her voice I hear. Asking “how things are,” “what’s up,” “how was your weekend.” So I have reason to call her. Why I need a reason I don’t know. But then I go to return her call and I pray she doesn’t answer.

THREE

I have 3 days left. 3 days in this tomb. After the 3rd day, I will have stripped myself to a blank canvas. Not a white canvas. A blank canvas. A clear canvas ready to be painted. Painted by words. Only dialogue. Only phrases of purple, yellow, and green. Most certainly green. Green like envy. Green like greed. Green like lust. I lust for these 3 days. 3 final days. 3 days: a Friday, a Saturday, and a Sunday. Monday is my death. Monday is my beginning. Monday is 3 days from now.