Snap The cartridge bumps (An odd Sound) Into the firing Chamber Hits, Then… Nothing, Free, Weightless, Wrong, Dead. I’m beginning to notice a focus in these poems: Death. I think I need to focus on making these poems more surreal and less and morbid.
Alone, I resented the Darkness. Knowing that, Anyhow, You’ll die Helpless. Th[e] endless Dark, Forgotten, Dead.
Fight everybody fights Except that I was afraid Privately, quietly Really, really Just, just I snapped And I wondered was it just me?
The numbers hypnotize you Two and ten Twelve odd, even, the count Look as time is destroyed They take no prisoners You, roughnecks, got a minute… to shine! minutes drop