Lying in bed sensing the end
Life ebbing out of me,
Body already like a corpse,
Breathing deep and shallow
Then Fast and slow.
I become less aware of me,
Conscious and unconscious.
Saliva building up in the back of my throat,
I feel the beginning of the rattling coming.
White light flashes in my mind
Angels coming? No way for unworthy me.
Angels fly far away, gone.
No eternal redemption for me?
Can’t barely hear my heart beating,
Becoming deathly faint.
Struggling for breath,
Drowning in death.
As if suddenly suicidal,
I succumb:
10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1
LIGHTS OUT.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional.
I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more. I like and abide by the saying life's too short to be taken too seriously.
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