Disobedient Death

“Don’t shoot!”
“I’m a nice guy!”
The whip and zip of projectile winds gives form to the flash and slash of violent, violet fluorescent rays.
They cry in condescending notes, combing and stirring the ambient currents of fierce elemental forces within the firmament.
Fixated on the fear and palpitations, I match their vexing temperament, frothing and foaming at the mouth.
“I have given to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, I’ve been a good bond servant, I’ve paid my dues, my tithes and my taxes!”
“Is it the colour of my skin? Do my words betray my thinly veiled guise as a pauper, an honest joe and a working man? Is it because I don’t believe?”
“Every waking moment of my days, I make up, then take down these layers. The pain of the peel and repeal, of these onion’s tears.”
“I want a divorce from the medication, the mutilation, and your awkward masturbations!”.
Too late!
Rip! roar!
The shots were fired, and I died and was resurrected; and am now a new creation. Made in the image, chains and euphemisms of another jealous, and bloody creator.

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