what has returned here
lacking limbs lacking hands
fingers toenails

what has been left behind
outside the glass box of your brain
where the scream shudders in
slapping kissing mutilating

what has been lost is smile
pie, coffee.

The knowing grin, but warm.

a cold darkness fills it
and flesh and facemap and wounds
wounds in the head

what has been let free
was inevitable as the scream

in its shackles it was complete
beautiful, horrifying

now the bullet passes through
cold, and leaving behind it
cold

A horror, a beautiful horror
but cold