I still remember the 1st GSW I saw.
Went from assault, to murder, in a matter of minutes.
Completely fucking bled out.
As in O.
U.
Fucking T.
OUT.
Unclamped his aorta, and BOOM!
“Time of death…,” and all walked out – ‘cept me.
And then, there’s the drug deal gone bad.
Etc., etc.
And the .22 to the temple.
There’s a reason it’s called “gray matter.”
And the one where no one could figure out where he was shot… until I found the powder burns around his nostril.
And the mother who lost her only son.
Yeah.
Like Mother Mary.
We looked at each other & said not a word as I caught her while she started to collapse.
Her soul spoke volumes w/o words.
I went & hid behind the curtains in an empty slot in the Trauma bay, looked out over the city & wept.
I could hardly compose myself.
Gawddamn.
That is some shit.
The scumbag dealers of death want us to forget that “those who live by the sword will die by the sword.”
Prophets of profit.
Ministers of misery.
Purveyors of pain.
Balladeers with bullets.
Thieves of time.
Luxuriating liars.
Cold steel hearts.
Barrels of blood.
Gunpowder girls.
Children dancing with death.
Devils with human hands.
Manufacturers of the merciless.
Dead eyes.
Cheap shots.
Raining bullets.
Shell shocked.
Locked and loaded.
All clear.
Trigger happy.
Russian roulette.
Drive bys.
Going postal.
Full auto.
One shot.
Blunderbuss.
Red sticks.
Flintlocks.
Kentucky rifles.
Revolver. Read the rest of this entry »
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