Hickok

Enter the killer,

photo by hungrybison

filled with drunken resentment,

circling behind,

he trembles,

“Damn you, take that!”.

 

The shattering of bone,

the spray of blood and brain,

his hand splayed.

 

We do not choose the world,

to which we were born.

Run, run for your fucking life.

Advertisements

1 Comment

Filed under American West, creative writing, micro stories, non fiction, poem, poems, Wild Bill Hickok

One response to “Hickok

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s