The Killer Blow

I think that the time has finally arrived. So I will box up everything and either toss it in the street or scorch it in the fireplace. At least that way, it would produce some final fuel for the fire. There is a hospital bed waiting for me at the end of the line. I can already smell the putrid horror of the electric lit hallway. There will be women waiting there who I will dream of smashing to pieces. There will be employers who I will imagine introducing to Jack Kevorkian's line. This distaste is unsettling, but it's all too real. What can I possibly do to send it away? Internal bleeding takes a lifetime to heal. I heard that you were walking down the road with your new groom last night. Now you have a partner in status and science. It warms my heart to know that your advertisement reeled in a replacement for you cling to. I guess we both thought that you could be alone for at least a short while. You act so tough, so self-righteous, so detached, but your weakness has been clearly revealed. It makes me feel so sick to my viscera. I'm certain that this, too, pleases you tremendously. The killer blow in all of this is that you have won. In your sadistic regime, I am out cold on the broken past that you left me. There is just a void left in between us. A wide entropy in our  heads. The space in our pockets gives way to the infinite oblivion of past tense intimacies. Yes, the moment has revealed itself. I hope to never see your cruel face again.