Tyler Morello

November 11, 1998 -- Richland, WA
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Rapid Fire

Rapid fire shots spray sent from a minigun tongue.
The bullets bend,
Bouncing back to burn myself,
How many times may they ricochet?
Sometimes the shots are shots,
Hollow points poured into highballs
Designed for optimal damage,
Splintered insides, ruptured organs.
Sometimes the shots are words,
Recurrent impacts of burdens,
Side effects of bourbons,
The uncertainty of hurting.
When not much is left to say,
You hear the click,
It signals "reload."
I prepare for another volley.
Weapons of Mass Destruction,
Whatever is My Downfall,
A belt-fed, self-led cataclysm.
69 Total read