Her Minute

The pungent hands of wind shred the chiffon clouds
Dissolving amidst the leaden skies like shadows in the light -
She walks the nowhere road, she breathes the poisoned air
Relishing the blades of the steely sunset in the East….
One minute left until the live interview with eternity
Sixty long seconds to be sliced up with the golden knife -
She kisses the aluminium dust underneath her drunken feet
Unsheathing gently her silvered poniards of thoughts…
The craved detotixification renders itself impossible
Bitter uranium salts of despair stay forever in blood –
She knows this not and still craves the sweet liberation in vain
Salving her angry mind with false hopes of platinum future
But the future shall end abruptly in less than half a minute
Ironic dice of fate foretell the end of her mortal game -
She sips the cobalt blue draughts of this crestfallen winter
Sinking slowly amidst the mercurial tears of a heavy snowfall
The torture with soldering-copper has come to its end
About to be tinned within the rigid walls of a better reality -
She twists her parched lips into a Hellene smile
Listening to the hollow requiem of the brass band maestros
No bronze bust to personalize her forsaken sepulchre
No chrome-plated plaques to engrave the R. I. P. spell
She was a miserable waif unworthy of any recognition
Drinking potassium cyanide by handfuls to soothe her pain