“i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.” ~ The Stranger (Albert Camus)

a beach with roaring waves and clouds that tumble in the sky like boulders. blue-gray sand drenched in red blood with a growing rust in its soul.

an eye bats down to the bullet’s shell lazing on the beach, gun shot residue resting on his mind as the vibration flutters down.

perhaps the glow of digital heaven upon the rotting face could give him a glimpse into eternity.

what can he do besides consume and be consumed, rats repelled from his strands of hair across his eyes and into his mind.

a body he once owned lies there, sea foam and that bitter crimson bile breed across the line that stretches across everything he ever knew.

-fin (2024-10-17)