Forty Million Seconds
By Chip Marks

Forty million seconds and I no longer exist.
Breathe gone long ago, walking man on shaky floors.
I’m sorry you saw this scene from paintings gone blue.
Flesh in concert, lurk in corners of forever.
My breath no longer lingers in the heart of loves last seconds.
I don’t see today, eyes stitched shut in meticulous design.
I could never say no to you, transactions in ownerships end.
I gave all in complete agreements, papers signed in dark meetings.
I gave you all that existed and laid in boxes made for me.
Smells of grass and dirt, clouds blow by spring morning’s goodbye.
Shovels lighten burdens of the disconnected existences.
They care not today, the grey skin they cover in hazy aftermaths .
My eyes closed see through eyelids last hint.
Your last breathe takes me in to places you covet.
Rooms with no doors, the places I long to be inside you.
No release on legs of broken chairs.
You feed my moments with morsels of precious poison.
I consume last meals in cells of the damned