.
A smoking barrel,
My bleeding toe,
A quivering finger barely brushing the trigger.
Burnished steel,
Echoing silence,
A space of low pressure for the guilt to expand.
Liquid nitrogen shock,
Supernova shame,
A shape shifting delay between action and thought.
The gaping wound,
My guilty mouth,
The ever growing list of amends I have to make.
Social boundaries,
Poisonous shrapnel,
Conventions blasted by my unforgiving stupidity.
Ashen faced,
Guilty as charged,
There is only the culprit, victim and the audience.
Gunpowder fumes,
Attention whore,
Expectations exceeded and impressions defied.
Caught red-handed,
Destruction in my wake,
My bullet flew straight through your heart and into my foot.
.
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