A Handgun's Cathedra

Wearing a head that weighed a thousand pounds,
I broke down to my knees, then down completely
The sky to the north gladly turned into a sea of gore
And I knew that red was the last bright color I'd ever see

With my tears it would only brighten, permeating my guilt,
So I closed my eyes to the only remaining thought
But it illuminated like the fourth of July beneath my eyelids,
Branding reality forever in my sullen mind

On that night I saw the world through her skin
And she made me hate what I had found

Her pale, lifeless body lying on the floor
Spoke a sense of urgency no longer urgent
And I couldn't help but fall into an abject muse of the days before
In search of implicit blots within the remnants

The sole discovery made worth my while
Was the loaded handgun still in her clutches,
As if it were there by its own will,
Unbent in mirth in its cathedra

Deciding better of it, I tugged off her tender grip,
Hoping her cold hands could forgive the tool of fate that
I now adjoined with for a staring contest

Before long, I gave in to put my mind at ease
And fell into black with a click

For on that night I saw the world through her skin
And she made me hate what I had found

(Written on December 19, 2012)

© Ricky Randall
December 20, 2012