The Electric Bill (cont.)

The lights‐

they won't turn off,

every switch is down

every plug, pulled

every fuse, blown

and still, I am blinded‐

from the inside out.

I see just how large this bill has grown‐

and in light of that,

I have surely had my fill.

I am one, only, one‐

not very bright,

idea away from

getting the lights to go off,

for good.

They may never burn out, but‐

Just one last flash‐

and faster than sound

the lights will be out

never to come on again.

The rippling echo of glass hitting the floor

will sound through the halls,

now absent of light‐

just as they have for long wanted to be.

I'll finally be able to sleep,

forever.

Never again will I disrupt the neighbors.

Never again to deal with what time can't heal.

Never again to be faced with a bill I cannot afford.

Never again will I be left blinded in a shadow-less land.

Just one last flash‐

and faster than sound,

the pieces will fall,

never to be put back together again.

No more will that blinding light

stab my eyes‐

and write scripts of chaos

in my mind.

The glass can finally scatter,

as I know it has for long wanted to.

Splinters and shards both will share the space where I used to stand‐

and to the figures dressed in black that might stand there after,

I am sorry‐

I simply could not,

afford this bill any longer.