Here I sit

stuck between

two eternities,

history and

the history that will be.

A flake off someone’s life

that isn’t any more

falling

waiting

to hit the ground

and fill it

beyond imagination

beyond  horoscopes

beyond hunger

beyond new beginnings

beyond new years.

 

I put my hat on

and count, 10, 9, 8 ……..

I count the days until

I count no more.

 

Ah! But then there will be fireworks!

The end, an unending hangover.

The end, no new year.