Come Shoot for Me (short horror, poem)

Lighter in hand.

“What’s your plan?”

Rice. Grains. Long. Shredded.

“The plebs are indebted.”

Hey, you said it. Do it and you might regret it.

“Speak your piece when spoke. Countermeasures against being broke, so don’t get amug with me, bloke.”

Another sip.

“Here’s the joint. Take a toke.”

Is this a joke?

The mouthpiece is wet.

“Dem’s the rules. Bet.”

Wave a no.


“Not for me,” I reckoned.

Friends from a narrow corridor, convulsing on the ground.

Who’s god do they beckon?

This mess their making.

The time they’re taking.

“I recovered the toddy.”

Spoke in silence.

A corpse, swollen and bruised.

Serenaded in violence.

Drug induced trance.

More reality tv so the wrinkles can learn to dance. Maybe go smooth and soothe the deapair beneath her hair.

Our intellect to be devolve, evaporate in thin air.

Eugenecist games. Look up the list of names.

He spoke with arms crossed.

“We won’t stop until I claim big boss.”

Your making mistakes.

Graver sins.

Who owns the media?

DARPAnet investigation?

Amazon wins.

Lehman Brothers grin.

He spoke in a cold tone:

“Door to door salesman, do you know why you were allowed in my home?”

Tongue in cheek. Door slammed shut.

Don’t panic. Don’t freak. The woman at home only cares of what she speaks.

As papathumbs showed me by listening with violence, I beheld a wall made of violence.

“Sever the placement. Toes in an Arizona basement.”

Gulp. Sigh. My god why?

A jar with ripped labia lips, marked as memoribilia from “That one Asia trip.”

Invest. Invest. Invest.

What about Gates?

Invest in Gates?

Maybe we will avoid disastrous fate, borne from the minds of men who think to soon, but feel too late.

Cold tiles and bile. God where you?

A voice in the darkness.

“A side. Sue it. Join me. Do it.”

A fish in the ocean.

Whispershrieking in the mouth of madness.

“Buy the child,” he said, admiring his awards. He jiggled her leash. “$40. Your driver can bring it back.”

My sight went black.

Stumble into an alley.

Then came the crack.

She was light of breath.

Inhaling meth.

Blue eyes. Blonde hair.

Rooftops. Never do I dare go.

I stare at the wall wondering, “Where are you now? Where did you go?”

Met one who looked like you.

Grandiose, and quite appealing.

Trouble stating how I am feeling.

Strange like watching marble faces grinning from the cieling.

Wrote a book about the look.

In her eyes, I saw you.

Some bury the pand watch it in silence.

I profess to detest, their cowardice.

God bless—

those who make mistakes, take judgement and ridicule like champs and to their own beat they dance

Things unseen.

I played with them as kid and teen.

As an adult, I learned it were no dream.

The atrocities transcend the flies in the mouth in that one house.

He went “Wham!”


Two weeks later: no one cried for the missing “bud.”

I reminisce that some can die as thought they were to never exist. Loved, remembered, but never truly missed.

The eyes of a fallen angel. Gloss marbles.


In him, as her, as them and we, much like me:




Look for my book on Amazon or my site.

Be fan. Lmk what you think.



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