the snow sinks its
hooks into everything like
a parasite burrowing into
the skin of the
host. blood trickles from
the topmost windows of
the skyscrapers, down the
hills and slanted roofs,
into the cupped hands
of children huddled around
street corners and alleyways.
every dark cranny conceals
an ambush; every back
hides a knife, sharpened
to a fine point
and dipped in poison.
not to worry: there
is clarity in the
crunching of femurs underfoot,
in the driving of
a blade through a
throat, in the last
gurgles of the dying.
there is a gun
waiting for you on
a desk. go on.
pick it up. feel
its warmth, how well
it fits in your
hands. see the packs
of moving targets shuffling
about outside, unaware of
the traps all around
them. open the window.
take aim. slowly squeeze
the trigger until you
feel the kick. see
the blood splattered on
the concrete, and know.
first person shooter
page revision: 2, last edited: 24 Mar 2025 20:32