this were to be his final moments

the turn-coat
tiny beads of water turned to ink as the rolled down his umbrella
the noise of his surroundings muffled a silent coughing noise
his comrade in front of him hugs her body as her white evening gown turns a deep hue of velvet red.
the mole in the organization
he shed his blue uniform
he left it in the rain
blood-stained and rain-soaked
he scoffed at the ghastly sights of those whom he had murdered.
double the agent, double the glory
he reached into his beige pants and pulled out fine white powder, and inhaled it.
a momentary rush, as life around him seemed to slow down
a creak
in one fell swoop he withdrew his pistol, zeroed it, aimed it.
bang!
he was too slow..
he hesitated ..
this time it was his ebony cloak's turn to drip the faint smell of oxidising iron
from a pool of crimson nothing-ness

Knowledge
in this world of lawlessness
who is to judge of one's quality inferiority
our leaders ,the world's leaders gathered
swearing to instill in each of us the knowledge
to keep us going . To keep them going.
Hoping that in the masses of millions of people
there would be a handful of us capable to use this knowledge
for the betterment of the world ,for the betterment of mankind
who is to judge
progress ,downfall
each in it's own is but a ratio created in comparisson to our past.
One shot
wish for a better world
a dreamer
a sleeper
who is to judge of the difference

the very best

dark dreams engulfing
the spiral of hatred
reminisce of the times
the times of purgatory
the times of grief
the nights when death himself
seemed to stroke your skin with his
cold lifeless fingers
the nightmares
more and more of them
the valley of the shadow of death
the life within reach
slowly diminishing
your irises dilate
blood in your veins seem to slow down
you hear every sound and capture every beam of light
no more
no more she tells him
he walks away
no more pain
just this cold
dank
empty
four walls
that which he must face every day
and every night
no more
she told me..
and so i granted
the cool cement flooring never felt so scorching against his skin
i drift between the first and second person's perspective
just as much as my consciousness allows me.
crystal clear and highly viscous
a cool soothing feeling as it ran down my throat
then..
in an instance later
he could no longer breath
he was but another lifeless object within the walls of the cell
he once spoke to me that life was never the same without her
no he was no longer in possession of life itself..
just another lifeless object
just another perfect casualty.
i have grown weary of this endless struggles
my patience wears too thin
he snapped..
that's just life