Working Fast

there's a count down counting out my last days here
it's clicking and notching it's way forward
stripping off the threads behind it
leaving only the shaky words,
"In the morning this will all be gone..."

and I tell you these as though it will be some bandage
over the wound left after the hook in your heart
pulls taught the string strung to my jetplane window
seat 18a, economy
with optional emergency exit back to you
should i so choose
to pull the latch
leave the oxygen mask
and jump

but my fears compound
and the ground that accommodates my
impact
smacks me back to reality
knowing that
were i revived
were the doctors to put the pieces of me back together
they'd find
when they put that stethoscope to my chest
nothing but static
just the crackle and fuzz
of a robot's heart gone wrong

like if the the tin man ate
the lion ate
the scarecrow
ate the mystery behind our fantasy
and left us wondering where we came from in the first place
with nowhere to go

just the crackle and fuzz and die
my bits splattered flat on the asphalt...

or

your whole heart pulled clean out of your ribcage...
this choice
I made,
and yeah it hurts
but you and i know damn well,
"In the morning this will all be gone..."