The world's end
holds a golden fleece
mine a gun
its chamber holds
a golden bullet
one of a kind
ensuring peace
all
for a 
fraction of the price

~.~

Some say
take treatment
or
therapy
my imagination
marches
with the devil
not for sport
alas
for security

~.~

Mesmerised
by
undulating mood
paralyzed through
surmounting doubt
a poisoned well
of
apocalyptic account
roulette
of a Russian kind
simplifies
silences
trauma
of a sadistic time

~.~ 

sometimes
I bite the bullet

in my mind