I sat in the barrel of your 45 for years
hot filament and a spark
of course, the light won't keep
the monsters away so you
needed the gun
felt the iron brand my forehead
with your (re)marks of shame
each wounding me year by year
I gained weight and I couldn't
get by looking strangers in the eye
of course, deeper days emptied
their lights and drained my emotions
to a dwindling whimper or cinder
no longer the devil encased in
your copper shells
You just got out of jail
and came back, like a demon,
right at the turning point
of my life; the sweat gathering
in pools around your forehead
drip on the palm of my hand
in between the spaces of
you can't breathe in
I've already been the lookout
for myself, now all will know
you're all heart and stomach
I'm all claw and instinct
claiming you're reformed
from all the wicked and shiny things—
you're evil and everyone knows it
'cause they're all out looking
for your head to nail
upon the wall while I will
relish in your final hour
the deliciousness of secrets unfolding
the ammunition empty
on the wooden floor
