Snap!

Waiting for the snap because, I thought, a snap would be all I’d sense; just a snap and then bright light, the roar of eternity steamrolling everything I am, was, will be. The snap and then nothing else for me to experience, not even a void. What’s left only that which you will experience, whoever you are, however you announce yourself to be. Whatever the snap was, you’ll see what it was right away.

Before the snap it’s cold and bitter, the taste of just apple peels and nothing else. Jammed up and entirely committed but still gentle with the soft palate, everything gets counted, considered, contained, a lifetime drawn on the back of a matchbook. A tremulous finger twitches where one last decision will be made. Everything ends where one thing says, “Fuck it.