I Guess So.

Here we go again.
My fingers don't even work.
You're welcome, all. For me not doing it.
I can feel the steel, the angle at which it rests, oily
in my mouth
(full of boredom)
cold metal, a long reach--
say "ah."
Touch the roof of your mouth
with that cold, cold metal.

Lovely.

Licking it in my mind.
(The open, oily barrel)
Really? No.
Shotgun funeral.
Gun-shy.
Dick.
Cock.
Fuck me to death.
My brains out.

HOLY FUCKING CHRIST COME FUCK MY MOUTH UNTIL I CANNOT SPEAK OR WEEP
MAKE EVERYTHING WET
ALL FLESH
BREATH
COME
COCK
THRUST
LEAN PUSH
RIBCAGE
STOMACH
PELVIS. DIG. GRIND.
BONES.

...shocked..?
Oops.
Better now.