Mourn

I am cursed with another thought.

In this thought, I am pointing.

Except I am pointing at myself.

I am pointing at my head.

Index and thumb.

My finger feels like cold metal.

In this thought, 

my wrist jolts.

My hand moves quicker than I can perceive.

And in one fluid motion,

the room begins to fade.`

What comes next is silence.

*

Stay focused.

No funerals. 

Photo by Nate Neelson on Unsplash