That night, as we
drank and drowned in our clinks
the pound increased on the door.
I swayed and staggered, buried my eye in the spyhole
when the muzzle smoke burst open everything.



Be it the work of creativity or a case of mortality
Both came from a trigger
Be it a photo frame or an obituary
Both ended up on a wall
A headshot, that’s what it’s called.



I remember the girl from last week
Her hair worn in bows and knots,
bobbing her head to a tune.
I can hardly recognize her now,
With the dent between her bows.



The GOD of Iron is on duty today.
The destiny of men is determined by the pull of a trigger.
Everyone is trying to kill the fire with gasoline.
Brain tissues splattered in the helmet.
The voodoo failed the bearer! man down, headshot!!!


It’s a headshot
You can’t explain it keep your mouth shut
I can’t bear it my eyes are bloodshot
You can stop shooting only if you keep your mouth shut
The gun is your tongue…


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