On the Possibility of Ending

As i closed the door all the desire that had not come a while before seized me. It pounded in my skull and tingled in the fingers. I threw myself on the bed and tore the pillow with my hands.

-John Fante

ghosted gusto reflected in the glass

the holy dribble of man

sharptoothed with intent

roaring his senses to the trees

their atoms recoiling in

primal recognition

the very cells

reorganizing