Paper Target (repost)

I am marked
But there is no notice
Yet
The slightest pressure
Triggers an explosion
And a hollow point projectile
Slices the atmosphere
Slamming into me
Shredding upon entry
I NEVER EVER see it coming
I am hit in my blind spot
So hard I swivel
My brain sloshing
In my fracturing skull
I am disoriented
What the hell was that?
My vision narrows to tunnel
I am suddenly sweating
From all pores
Profusely frightened
Blood is pulled from my limbs
I am numb
Shaking and cooling
My resources pumped and pooling
Inside my middle, vital
Organs filling for survival
And then
I am angry
WHAT THE FUCK!
I am sick of this
Trigger-happy tyrannical culture
And the concentric circles
Of my paper-thin psyche
Available for target practice
Whenever and without warning
Until I am left riddled with holes
Shreds of me swaying
In this stale social wind
I cannot patch me
Fast enough
Before another flash
BANG
And I am thrown back
Again
Entirely
To the exact moment when
I said no
But he
Didn’t listen
And neither did anyone else

-a.r.

4F230746-0FFA-4157-95B1-EDA28F37483A.jpeg
Painted Lady by Jennifer Davis

~ by April on October 5, 2018.

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