the saboteur hands
grip the ivory pistol grip
like a lover
caressing the bare back
of
his heart’s desire
the executioner stares
with empty eyes
at the well worn handle
of his axe
so lovingly
sharpened
red and black
the blood pools
under
the strobing light of forever
in
succinct and succulent sprays
time is arbitrary
only
love life and death
can be counted on
to slow
the stream of nothing
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
Hi Mike!
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Hey AL
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You forgot about me
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nah. just busy pretending be an employee, writer and father. about six hours too few in the day it seems.
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Yeah, life
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