Previous Feature: James Decay

James Decay lives his life these days as a nomad, taking any kind of work that comes his way which might not always be on the up and up. At the end of the day he writes poems about it.

*

Poem 1

Jimmy did a bump
off the web
of his right hand,
pulled the ski mask
over his face and
told me to
keep it running.

He opened the
car door and
began walking
toward the gas station.

The frozen ground
held the reflection
of the sign above
that read,
“Fresh Bait &
Cold Beer.”

The cashier looked up
when the bell
above the door jingled.

Jimmy pulled the .380
from his waistband,
aimed it at the kid
behind the counter
and told him
to empty the register
or he’d feel the wind
snake through his
fuckin’ head.

The kid
did what he was told.
He told the kid to
throw in a fifth of Jack
and a carton of Winstons
while he was at it.

The kid
did that as well.

Jimmy did
a curtsy, turned on his
heel and strolled out
the door where the
owner was waiting
with a shotgun.

I watched
Jimmy raise his .380 but it
was too late.

The owner’s
shotgun bucked and put
Jimmy on his back where
he laid gasping for air as
snowflakes the size of
silver dollars filled his mouth
and a cold wind
snaked through the
hole in his chest.

*

Poem 2

Three days
before
releasing
the monster
they created
my cellmate
looked at me
and said
when I get
on the
other side
of the
razor wire
I’m gonna
rain down
hell
on the
free world
and for
twenty-eight days
he did
just that
leaving
a trail of
spent shell casings
wrecked cars
bodies
and empty bank tills
in his wake
until a
US marshal
put a bullet
in his head
leaving cody’s
bad intent
to drip
from the
windshield
of a
stolen
’77
barracuda

*

Poem 3

I consider death
to be the great
conversationalist
sitting at a table
across from you
watching you squirm
in your seat
searching for the right
words to say
while death
just sits there
with that
hard as fucking nails
Steve McQueen stare
knowing it doesn’t
have to say shit
to you
or
anyone else
because its actions
speak for themselves

*

All Hail! This is a public service announcement from Midnight Lane Boutique. Death is ever present. So, don’t strive after the wind. Instead, click on the hourglass below, and learn how you can share your own hard-earned wisdom with the world . . .

tumblr_mzv32zIR3H1t3hbhyo1_500

This has been a public service announcement from Midnight Lane Boutique. Had this been an actual existential crisis, you’d be on your own . . .

Thank you.

 

GIF credit: Public Domain Diva 

%d bloggers like this: