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From years of disuse

from Abus by Abus

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The pine had grown for countless years until I took my axe and struck it down. I gently touched its branches, pins. A bracing sweep across my skin. The scent of resin suddenly filled my gut with fear as I realized my sin. Not the act of killing. Not the thrilling hunt. Not the joy of feeling fingers forced down the throat. More or less forgetting where my prison held me sealed. How the picture in the mirror showed a barren field at the side of which a company of beggars, liars and thieves prepared ourselves for mutiny against our make-believe. Not by the act of killing. Not by the thrilling hunt. By the joy of feeling fingers forced down the throat.

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from Abus, released March 20, 2013

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Abus Turku, Finland

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