poems

Caffeine

Science says that when you die,
the last sense to go is your hearing.

Imagine that.

Collapsing in the street, helpless,
and after the death rattle,

you hear a bystander calling out,

Oh, fucking hell.

He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.

Imagine that.

It’s enough to keep you awake at night.


This poem is from  Caffeine