And in this
lonely, dusty ruin
I count the coins
comprising
the price
of my perdition.
I have strangled
my conscience,
and opened
my accounts.
An easy life
in uneasy trade
for a diseased soul
that screams
and cries
in the silence.
I watch it
fall away.
I will be
troubled no more
as it sleeps.
And see
the teardrops
spray from my lips
as I whistle
and smile,
eternally
dying.