Before It Starts

Black embers glint
off shattered glass slags

quicksand slowly consumes
his carefree soul

blood thickens in chambered room
now devoid of empathy

for himself and others.

I imagine this must be
how it feels,
right before the shooting starts.

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2 Responses to Before It Starts

  1. wordnerd45 says:

    Honestly, I never know what mood my muse is in when she comes to visit. I swear she’s ADHD and bipolar, all wrapped into one. This time, she showed up with a Marlboro dangling from her mouth and sporting a fresh tattoo that says “Kiss my fish-belly white ass. If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

    And I don’t even smoke.

  2. DarcKnyt says:

    You know, I like this. There’s a creepiness to it which appeals to me. I’m not sure if you intended it to be horror — certainly it wasn’t meant to be a warm, fuzzy sort of poem — but you hit something visceral and guttural in it.

    I like that. Does that mean I’m ill?

    Probably.

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